Where Angels Fear To Tread
by Aireon Maris
Summary: "They disobeyed. They turned their backs on us and rebelled. And for that the punishment is death. There is no other choice. Castiel and Amitiel must die." In which Zachariah is vindictive. 2nd in the Angel of Truth Cycle. Now Complete
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi! *waves cheerfully* You've discovered my second Supernatural fic! If you're here through deliberate intent, welcome back! I hope I can continue to meet your expectations. If you're here on accident, having just stumbled across this story, it will help you to know this is actually a sequel. The first story is titled "Little Girl Lost," and I highly recommend reading it, because this story will make absolutely no sense if you don't. If you decide that going back to read a whole other story isn't worth your time, there is a brief synopsis of LGL at the end of this chapter. Any of my returning fans may also find this useful.

Thanks for reading this and please send reviews and carrots for the plot bunnies. They get vicious when no one feeds them.

XXXXXXX

The dreams were always the same. A dizzying whirl of memories: bright, vivid, and alien. Images of places she'd never seen, feelings she'd never experienced. Light and darkness, battle and song, blood and glory. And always the voices. A hundred languages all babbling in her head, some of which no longer existed. Terrible voices, screaming war cries. Beautiful voices singing melodies. Chants and conversations whose speakers died centuries ago. None of it was intelligible.

Except one.

A single question, five words long.

"_Will you let me in?"_

The answer was always the same.

_Yes._

Mallory woke up with a gasp, jerking upright on the couch. Her mind finally realized it had been a dream and told her heart to stop racing. She rubbed her face with a groan. Every time she went to sleep, she dreamed Amitiel's memories. And every time she heard the angel's voice, whispering gently to her. She wondered if it would ever stop, and tried to ignore the part of her that hoped it never would.

A quiet whine drew her attention downwards, and something nudged her right knee. She put her hand out and encountered warm fur. "It's okay, Crow," she soothed. "I'm all right." A wet tongue dragged across her palm. She patted the German Shepherd one last time before fumbling for the watch on her right wrist and pushing the button.

"Eleven forty-one, pm," the mechanical voice told her. Mallory groaned again and put the book she'd been hugging to her chest on the coffee table. This wasn't the first time she'd fallen asleep reading. Her internal clock was screwed all to hell and wasn't getting any better. She stretched her arms and rolled the kinks out of her neck.

There were no lights on in the house except the porch light that was never turned off. Mallory didn't bother with lights anymore. She didn't need them. Mallory was blind. Had been for going on a month, now. Everyone told her that it was going to get easier, but she was still waiting. The bandages on her left wrist were a testament to how "easy" it had been for her.

Crow whined again and shoved his head onto her lap. Mal ruffled his ears affectionately. They'd brought the big dog home last week and Mallory had instantly fallen in love with him. He was more than a seeing-eye dog. He was cross-trained as a guardian, which meant that Bobby felt comfortable enough leaving Mallory alone while he went to help the Winchester brothers out with some poker-playing he-witch.

"I know, I know," she said. "I should go to bed." But she didn't move from the couch, absently scratching Crow's neck. Finally she reached for the cane propped at the end of the couch and got to her feet. "I'm hungry. What about you, boy? You hungry?"

Crow didn't bark or wriggle excitedly as she headed for the kitchen. He paced sedately along beside her, leaning against her left leg to let her know where he was. The cane in her right hand wasn't technically necessary as Mallory had already memorized every detail of Bobby's house, but she felt safer with it at hand.

It had been made specifically for her, of iron rather than fiberglass, making it heavy enough to use as a weapon. Its hollow interior held enough salt to make a ghost-proof panic circle and the whole thing had been consecrated by a priest. It'd been a gift from Sam and Dean and Miriam quite liked it, actually. It was useful for poking when Dean made another stupid blind joke.

The interior of the refrigerator was carefully arranged, with everything in its own place so Mallory could find things easier. She was getting quite good at sandwiches, but Bobby refused to allow her to do anything involving the stove. She wasn't going to argue with him about that. After she made herself a sandwich, she got Crow a milkbone and listened to him crunch it while she ate.

Bobby said he'd be back in three days, tops, and told her to call Rufus Turner if she needed anything before then. He'd programed the number into her phone before he'd left. Mallory crumbled the bread crusts in her fingers and wondered when Castiel would come by. He'd made periodic visits over the past month, always when the depression started to get too bad. Mal suspected Bobby was calling the angel in, but Mallory didn't care. Having Cas around helped.

Because Mal still missed Amitiel. She missed having the presence of an angel inside her. The only analogy she could think of was drugs. She'd become addicted to Ami and then had to go cold turkey when Amitiel ripped herself free from Mallory in order to save her. Being with Cas wasn't the same, but it was the next best thing.

Crow finished his treat and came over to lie at Mal's feet. Bobby had hoped getting her a dog would encourage her to leave the house, but she hadn't ventured past the front porch, yet, and she only went that far when Crow needed to go out. She finished her sandwich, put her plate in the sink, and returned to the living room, finding her book again.

Where Cas had found the demonology text in Braille, Mallory couldn't imagine, but it had been a gift from the angel in the first week of her blindness. He'd taken three painstaking days to teach her to read Braille and then insisted she practice every day. She'd only gotten to page five, but she was quickly improving with Bobby's continued coaching.

Cas' other gift lay on the coffee table, as well: a text-to-speech converter Mal could use on Bobby's other lore books. She might be blind, but that didn't mean she could just sit around feeling sorry for herself. Bobby demanded that she help him with the research he did for hunters around the country, and her knowledge of the supernatural was quickly expanding.

Tonight was no different. Night really didn't mean much to her anymore, and it was typical for her to spend all night reading and sleep through the day. Crow didn't mind at all, following her faithfully as she puttered around the house or lying on top of her feet when she sat on the couch. So she opened her book to the marked page and rested her fingertips lightly against the page.

She let out a startled yelp when someone knocked on the front door, the book tumbling to the floor. Crow was on his feet in an instant, body tense and ready. Mallory frowned, reaching for her watch. "One oh four, am." Who on earth was visiting at this hour? She reached for her cane and made her way carefully to the front door.

There was a devil's trap painted on the ceiling of the porch overhang in front of the door, and iron in the threshold of the door itself. All of the windows were similarly demon-proof, courtesy of the Winchester brothers. Mallory was fairly confident that no demon could set foot inside the house.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of things that were immune to devil's traps and iron. But that was where Crow came in. They hadn't had to train him for this: animals, especially domestic ones, were naturally averse to the supernatural, becoming very agitated in the presence of non-human beings like shape-shifters or former human beings like vampires and ghosts.

Mallory led Crow right up to the front door and waited. Crow leaned against her legs, alert but not agitated. Reassured, she threw the lock and opened the door a crack. "Who is it?" she asked.

A woman's voice replied, weary and hesitant. "I—My name is Amelia Novak. I was told we'd be safe here."

XXXXXXX

And now, a brief flashback:

Mallory Graves, nineteen years old, was kidnapped from the campus of University of Detroit Mercy by one Eddie Kruger (whose name you may instantly forget) and held prisoner in his basement for three or four days until the angel Amitiel, weak from a recent attack and in need of a new vessel, offered to help Mallory escape in exchange for the use of her body. When Mallory agreed, Amitiel killed Kruger and proceeded to travel six hundred miles to Camden, NJ to find Dean and Sam Winchester, in order to contact her brother, Castiel. As it turned out, she had rebelled as a direct result of Castiel's fall and also had been cut off from heaven. She was being followed by a group of demons serving a fallen angel named Belial that Cas and Ami had imprisoned over a thousand years ago. Said followers, lead by the demon Marax, were seeking to release Belial, and the ceremony required a blood sacrifice from both Cas and Ami. Castiel eliminated the demons trailing Amitiel, allowing her to escape Camden with the Winchester brothers, but was captured himself and taken to Detroit to be tortured and held as bait for Amitiel. Ami, Sam, and Dean were able to rescue him and were subsequently discovered by the police, who had been searching for Mallory for the last two weeks. After another attempt to capture Cas and Ami, the two angels fled the hospital and retrieved Sam and Dean from the police headquarters, all of them making it back to Bobby's. Ellen and Jo were called in for aid and they launched an assault on the factory where Marax and Belial's followers were camped. Luck again abandoned them and they were all captured and Belial was released. When he attempted to kill Castiel, Amitiel blocked his attack in such a way that it banished Belial, Marax, Cas, and Ami to four different parts of the city. They recovered Castiel first, only to discover that the angel was unconscious and Jimmy was in control. Jimmy led them to Mallory, who was being pursued by Marax. Jimmy was able to kill Marax and save Mallory, but Mallory had lost her memory of the past three weeks, not even remembering that she was still carrying Amitiel around. Jimmy was then able to guess whereabouts Belial might be and the hunters planned a last assault to kill the fallen angel. Castiel woke up during the battle and was able to resume control just as Belial caught Mallory and held her hostage. Castiel offered to trade himself for Mallory but Belial ordered his demons to kill all of them. Amitiel then woke and, realizing the situation, left Mallory, dragged Belial free of his own vessel, and vanished in a large explosion. Mallory and Castiel both confirmed their belief that both perished, Amitiel sacrificing herself to save the others. The trauma of Amitiel's exit, combined with a brief glimpse of Amitiel's true form left Mallory blind. As she was no longer able to return home, Bobby agreed to allow her to stay with him until she decided what to do next.

Okay, not as brief as I thought it would be. Sorry about that. ANYway, we are now moving on to the sequel! Welcome back Mallory, played by the ever-lovely AnnaSophia Robb, and a warm welcome to Crow, not played by anyone in particular, but still a character in his own right. On with the show!


	2. Chapter 2

Mallory flung the door all the way open. "Oh, my God," she breathed. "Amelia? Is Claire with you? Are you both okay? What happened?"

There was a moment of stunned silence and Mallory grimaced. "Sorry, didn't mean to go into babble mode on you. Come in. And don't mind Crow, he doesn't bite." Mallory stepped out of the way and gave a light tug on Crow's harness. "Crow, go to your spot," she ordered. The dog turned and loped away, heading for the folded blanket by the couch that had been designated "his."

She felt someone step past her into the entryway, and then someone else, much shorter. Mallory breathed a sigh of relief. Then she closed the door and threw the bolt. Turning around, she stuck out her hand. "Hi. I'm Mallory. I'm a friend."

A hand closed over hers briefly. "It's good to meet you," Amelia said softly. When she released Mallory's hand, Mallory left it extended.

"It's Claire, right?" she asked. Another hand met hers.

"Yeah, that's me," said a young voice. Mallory smiled.

"You're both okay?" she asked earnestly.

"We're as fine as we can be," Amelia replied.

"Good. Uh, living room this way," Mallory said, pointing. She waited for Amelia and Claire to go first before following them in. "Go ahead and have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, we're fine," Amelia said quickly. Mallory nodded and tilted her head.

"Okay. Ah, if you don't mind, could you tell me where you're sitting?"

"Um, I—I'm in the armchair and Claire is on the couch. The right side, away from the dog."

"Okay," Mallory said again, and seated herself on the other side of the couch. "What happened? I thought you guys were safe somewhere in...northern Illinois, right?"

"That's right. How—how did you know?"

"I'm a friend of Castiel's," Mallory told Amelia. "And I met Jimmy, too."

"Is he all right?" Claire asked quietly.

Mallory twisted to face her direction. "Yeah, they both are. I saw Cas a couple of days ago. He's doing fine." She turned back to Amelia. "I'm guessing they found you," she said.

Amelia sighed. "Yes. There were three of them...I don't know how they got past the wards. We wouldn't have made it out except...There was a man. He said his name was Rufus Turner, that he was a hunter. He told us to come here, talk to Bobby Singer, that he could keep us safe."

Mallory nodded. "Rufus was right, this is a good place for you. Bobby's not here at the moment but this house is probably the safest you can get from demons. You'll be okay here with me and Crow until Bobby gets back."

"Thank you," Amelia said.

"I'm sorry," Mallory told her. "I...I know what it's like, to have your life turned upside down. I'm sorry you have to go through this, too."

There was a long silence, and then Amelia asked, "How did you get involved in...all of this?"

Mallory rubbed the side of her nose. "I agreed to be the vessel of an angel."

Amelia gasped faintly, and Claire spoke up. "What was the angel's name?"

"Amitiel," Mallory replied. "She was very close to Castiel."

"What happened?" Claire asked.

Mal blinked and lowered her head. "She died," she said shortly. "Uh, there's a guest bedroom open upstairs, the last door on the left. Clean linens in the closet. I'd, uh, I'd make the bed for you, but," she gestured to her face. "Sorry."

"No, no, it's all right," Amelia said quickly. "Don't worry about it. Claire, why don't you stay here. I'll get the bags from the car."

Mallory did her best to get them settled in, but it was still past two when the Novaks finally collapsed into bed, exhausted. Mallory returned to the living room and pulled out her cell phone. "Call Bobby," she ordered. She waited for it to ring, but the hunter didn't pick up. Mallory rubbed her nose again and frowned as she was transferred to voice mail. "Bobby, it's Mal. Uh...Jimmy's wife and daughter just showed up at the house. Rufus sent them here after they had a run in with some demons. Could you get back as soon as you can? I don't think I can keep them safe by myself."

She hung up with a sigh and turned the phone over in her hand. It took everything in her not to hate Amitiel right now. Because as much as she wanted to forget it, it was the angel's fault she was here, instead of home in Detroit, and blind.

"No," Mallory said between gritted teeth. "I said yes. It's not her fault." She took a slow, deep breath and made the anger and hate fade away. She lifted the phone to her ear again. "Call Castiel." She bit back a curse when she heard Castiel's bizarre voice mail message. "Cas, it's me. Get here as soon as you can." She hung up and shoved the phone into her pocket before making the rounds. It took her over an hour, but she checked every window and every door, making sure the locks were in place. As scary as it was, it was up to her to keep them all safe. For now.

XxxXxxX

Amelia came into the kitchen around seven. Mallory was just finishing making coffee when she heard footsteps. "Good morning," she called. "You sleep okay?"

"Yes, fine, thank you," Amelia replied. Mallory got down another mug.

"Sugar and cream on the table," she said. "How's Claire?"

"Still sleeping, thank God," Amelia said as she moved around the kitchen. Mallory took her seat and set her coffee aside to cool for a moment. "She's lucky, I suppose. Everything we've been through, and she never has nightmares."

"She's a brave girl," Mallory said softly. Amelia sat down opposite of Mallory.

"You were the vessel of an angel," she said, not really a question.

Mallory froze, her head tilted slightly to the right. "Yes," she said slowly.

"What was it like?" Amelia asked. When Mallory didn't answer at once, the other woman continued, "I'm worried about Claire. Ever since... Castiel possessed her. Just for a few minutes, and, well, she's been different. I thought, maybe, since you knew what it was like...you'd know..."

Mallory blew out a slow breath. She hadn't known that. "It was...overwhelming," she said quietly. "She was fire, and light, and noise...It's hard to describe it. And it's impossible to forget. You see...things. Bits and pieces. Memories. Some of it is...terrifying. Some of it is more beautiful than you can imagine." Mallory traced her finger along the table top, feeling the dents and scars in the surface. "Amelia, you might think she doesn't have nightmares, but that's because what she saw in Castiel's mind was so much scarier than whatever the demons can throw at you now." She shook her head. "Castiel saw hell. I can't imagine what those memories would be like."

Amelia drew in an unsteady breath. "I didn't know... Oh, my God. She's just a little girl. She's only twelve."

"I'm sorry," Mallory told her sincerely. "Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Claire didn't see all that. You said it was only for a few minutes. But..." she hesitated, but continued anyway. "But having an angel inside you, of course it's going to change you. If you want, I can talk to Claire..."

"I'd like that, yes," Amelia agreed after a minute. "She won't talk to me. Maybe she'd talk to you."

"Okay." Mallory sipped at her coffee and they sat in silence for several minutes.

"How long will the demons be after us?" Amelia asked suddenly. Mallory winced and put down her mug.

"I'm not sure. Probably until the end of the Apocalypse, whenever that is."

"The _what_?"

Mallory winced again. _Oh, crap._ "You didn't know about that, did you?" she asked sheepishly.

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Amelia replied weakly.

"Yeah...so we're kinda in the middle of the Apocalypse," Mallory said, running her hand through her hair. "They're trying to stop it, Castiel and Bobby and the Winchesters. Trying to find some way to defeat Lucifer. The problem is, heaven wants to duke it out with hell, but earth is sort of caught in the middle and no one cares except us." Mallory drummed her fingers against the table. "You're probably not going to be safe until it ends, one way or the other. I'm sorry, Amelia."

"Yeah," she replied softly. "Me, too."

Mallory put her hand under the table, searching for Crow. When she found him, she buried her fingers in his thick fur. "I can't go home, either," she said. Her throat closed up but she cleared it roughly, determined to speak. It hurt, but it might help Amelia. "The things Ami had to do...I can never go home. I don't know if I'll ever see my parents again," and there was a flash of relief that she hurriedly squashed. "I know you're scared, Amelia. I know. But it's okay. We'll get through this." She had yet to "get through it," but that's what everyone was telling her, and maybe Amelia would believe it more than she did.

"I forget, sometimes," Amelia replied. "That we're not the only people who've sacrificed. That it's not just Jimmy. You...you gave up everything. Why?"

Mallory's fingers tightened in Crow's fur. "Because Ami saved my life."

There came a strange buzzing noise from overhead and Mallory frowned. "What is that?"

Amelia gasped softly. "The light...it's flickering... Is there some kind of wiring problem?" she continued hopefully.

Mallory blinked. "No...Oh, _shit._"

There was the sound of breaking glass, the stench of sulfur, and Crow started howling.


	3. Chapter 3

Mallory froze for a second, completely unable to think or speak. Crow kept howling but didn't leave her side. Something hit the ground and shattered and the light bulb overhead burst with a loud pop.

"Oh, God," Amelia cried, and Mal snapped back to reality.

"Window," she said. "Window, which window? Amelia, which window?"

She heard Amelia's chair scrape backwards, and then Amelia called back, "The front, in the living room. I can see them!"

Mallory lunged to her feet, crossing the kitchen in long strides and praying she didn't trip over anything. Crow finally shut up and followed her. "What do you see? Tell me!"

"They're just standing there," Amelia whispered. "Oh, God, there's so many of them!"

Mallory hesitated to go into the living room in her bare feet, unable to avoid the broken glass as Amelia was. "They're not attacking?" she asked, puzzled.

"No. They're...watching. Just...staring."

Mal gnawed on her lower lip. "Okay. Okay. Um...Amelia, go get Claire and bring her down here. There's a panic room in the basement, we can lock ourselves in until Bobby and the boys get back...Speaking of which," she snatched her phone from her pocket but it only beeped at her, informing her it was not receiving service. "Dammit!"

She turned and hurried back into the kitchen, heading for the land line, when the window in front of her shattered. Mal recoiled, arms coming up to protect her face, and she fell backwards hard, landing on her hip with bruising force.

Crow was beside her in an instant, nosing at her face and neck. She bit back a cry of pain and pushed herself up with the dog's help. She pointed in the direction of the back door. "Crow, shoes!" she ordered. Crow whisked away from her reach and returned a moment later, dropping one of her slip-on sneakers in her lap. He fetched the other while she put the first one on, and then Mallory ventured back into the living room.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Amelia's voice, "What do we do now?"

"The demons can't come inside," Mallory said quickly. "It's literally impossible. If we stay in the panic room, we should be okay."

Another window broke and Mallory flinched instinctively There was a muddle of sounds, mostly drowned out by Claire's scream. "Claire!" Mallory yelled. "What's going on? What's happening?" She groped out frantically, mentally cursing her disability.

"Mom?" Claire called, sounding as if she'd gone down on her knees. "Mom! _Mom!_"

"Claire!" Mallory yelled again, her voice sharp. "Talk to me. What is going on?"

"They—they're throwing rocks through the windows," Claire panted, sounding as if she was trying not to cry. "One hit Mom in the head. She's bleeding!"

"Show me," Mallory ordered, holding out her hand. Small fingers closed over her wrist and pulled her downwards until her hand came in contact with the side of Amelia's face. Her hair was damp and sticky around a hard knot just behind the temple. "It's not bad," Mallory assured Claire, hurriedly running through her truncated nursing education. "She'll be fine. I'm gonna need your help getting her downstairs, though."

"Okay," Claire said shakily.

Another window broke, this time in the study. Mallory didn't waste time. She searched and found Amelia's arms and hauled her into a sitting position, and then ducked under one of her arms. "Claire, get your mom's other side," she ordered. "Tell me when you're there."

After a breathless, panting moment, Claire replied, "Okay."

"Right. On three. One, two, three!" They stumbled to their feet, pulling Amelia up with them, and Crow started barking again. He seized hold of Mallory's shirt and started to tug at her. "Crow, stop it!" Mallory ordered, but he didn't obey. "The hell?"

Then Mallory smelled it: smoke. There was a sudden rushing sound and something in the study began to crackle. "Uh...Claire?" Mallory groaned. "Is the study on fire?"

"...Yeah," Claire said after a minute.

Mallory gritted her teeth and tried to think what the hell to do next. "Claire," she barked suddenly. "Go grab your mom's car keys. Are you wearing shoes?"

"No..."

"Go put some on. Hurry!" Mal staggered when Claire left her to take Amelia's weight on her own but managed to stay upright until Claire returned less than two minutes later.

"Now what?" the girl asked, trying to shove the keys into Mal's hand.

"No, you keep those. Kitchen. By the phone. There's a switch that says 'sprinkler.' I need you to throw it, then come right back here with me."

Claire darted off again and Mal held her breath, trying to keep tabs on the fire in study. It was getting larger; she could tell from the sound. Most of the room would be engulfed in flames by now and they had only a few minutes left...

And then the screams outside started. Claire was back at her side immediately after. "Okay, help me with your mom," Mallory ordered. "We're going out the front door."

"But the demons," Claire tried to protest, but Mal cut her off.

"Holy water sprinklers. It'll keep them occupied, but we only have about eight minutes until the water runs out. Go!" Together they dragged Amelia down the hall and out the front door. The stench of sulfur and burning flesh was noxious, and the screams were getting louder. Mallory staggered and almost fell as they left the porch.

"Car, Claire," Mal yelled. "I can't _see_, you have to lead me!"

"Over here!" Claire panted. With the girl's guidance, they reached the vehicle. It was a sedan of some kind, four door much to Mal's relief. They managed to get Amelia into the back seat and shut the door when someone grabbed Mal from behind and threw her to the ground. She rolled over in time to get a knee planted in her stomach and hands scrabbled at her throat.

"Crow!" she screamed. "Crow! Take 'em down!"

She heard Crow snarl and then a thump of colliding bodies. The weight atop her vanished and she scrambled to her feet. "Claire?"

"Here!" the girl called to her left. Mal held out a hand.

"Help me!"

Claire grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the car. Mallory found the hood and circled over to the passenger side. "Claire, get in the driver's seat. Start the car. Now!" Before she closed the door, she stuck her head out of the car and yelled. "Crow! Come!"

There was no warning before eighty-five pounds of Crow landed in her lap and she slammed the door shut. "Okay, Claire. Brake on the left, gas on the right. There should be a gear shift, either on the steering wheel or here," she groped between the seats and found the parking break and the shift. "Right. Now release the brake and put it into drive."

"I can't drive!" Claire yelped. "I don't know how!"

"Well, your mom's unconscious and I'm blind," Mal snapped. "You're all that's left. It's not that hard. Now do as I say!"

Claire gave a tiny whimper but Mallory heard various things click into place and then the car lurched forward.

"Head for the road, and then turn left," Mallory instructed. "That will take us into town. Go!"

The car lurched forward again and hit something, hard. Claire screamed. "Oh God, I just hit one of them!"

"Keep going," Mallory snarled, her arms tightening around Crow. "Claire, get us out of here!"

Claire gave a scream that was half fear and half battle cry before stomping down on the gas. The rear wheels of the sedan spun in the gravel before the car sprang forward once more and squealed out of the scrapyard onto the road. Claire's turn was wide and sloppy, bouncing off the asphalt on the other side before straightening out and gunning it down the straightaway. Mal hung on to her dog and resisted the urge to let out a scream of her own.


	4. Chapter 4

Mallory had no idea how fast they were going. The only indicators that they were moving at all were the sound of the car's engine and the lurching motion as Claire fought to drive in a straight line. Mal swallowed heavily. She hadn't been in a car since she'd gone blind and now she was realizing why: she was in serious danger of getting carsick.

Fantastic.

Claire was still hyperventilating and Mallory knew she had to calm the girl down before she crashed them or something. "Claire," she said, making her voice even. "Claire, talk to me. Are you okay?"

"No," Claire said, sounding squeaky. "No, very not okay. I'm _driving_ a _car_ and my mom's unconscious and there are demons after us! So not okay!"

"Deep breaths, sweetie," Mal said, taking her own advice. "How's your mom? Is she all right?"

"I don't know!"

"Claire, you have to describe things for me," Mallory said sharply. "Remember, I can't _see_. You have to see for me. What does your mom look like?"

"Uh...I think she's stopped bleeding. But she's really pale."

"Is she breathing okay?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, she's breathing fine. Is she gonna wake up? I mean, is this normal?"

"She's got a concussion," Mallory told her. "She'll wake up when she can. Right now we just need to concentrate on getting to town. Then we can get help." Normally Bobby didn't encourage contact with the general population of Sioux Falls, but Mallory didn't see how they had any other choice. Freeing one arm from the weight of dog in her lap, she retrieved her phone. It still had no service. She resisted the urge to fling it away in frustration but knew if she did that, she wouldn't be able to find it later.

Crow shifted and whined faintly, thrusting his cold, wet nose against Mallory's neck. She reached up to ruffle his ears. "We're okay, Crow," she assured him. "We're okay."

"Uh...Mallory?" Claire said in a tiny voice.

"What is it?"

"There's a police car behind me, and it's got its lights on."

"Oh, thank God," Mallory breathed. She groped around until her hand came to rest on Claire's arm. "Slow down and pull off to the side of the road," she instructed. "This is good. This is good, Claire. Just stay calm, okay?"

Mal felt the car shudder as they drove off the asphalt onto the gravel shoulder and slowly came to a halt. Claire was shaking, but Mal patted her arm soothingly. "Okay, listen to me. When the police officer comes to the window, roll it down part way. I want the first word out of your mouth to be 'Christo.' If the guy reacts, take off, got it? Tell me, Claire."

"I got it," the girl echoed dutifully.

"Okay. But if nothing happens, let me do the talking."

"Got it," Claire said again. Mal tightened her grip on Claire's arm when she heard the window slid down. Then Claire whispered, "Christo," and Mallory held her breath.

"What in God's name?" exclaimed a deep, male voice. "How old are you, missy?"

Mal let out her breath and leaned over. "Officer, you have to help us!" It didn't take much acting to put the quiver in her voice. "Please, Amelia's hurt and she won't wake up!"

"Slow down," the police officer instructed. "What's going on?"

"I live down the road," Mallory continued in a rush. "With my uncle, Bobby Singer. And there were these men! They attacked us, I don't know why, and they set the house on fire and Amelia won't wake up! We had to get out of there, and I can't drive...Please, you have to help us!"

"All right, all right, just calm down," the officer said. "I'm gonna call an ambulance. Let's get you out of the car and get a look at Amelia, okay?"

"But the men, they're coming for us!" Mallory said frantically. "They're coming and they're going to _hurt_ us!"

"No one is going to hurt you," he replied sharply. "I promise. Now come on, let me help you."

The car door swung open and Mallory felt Claire pull out of her grasp. She pushed open her own door and Crow jumped out, waiting until she got to her feet and grabbed his harness before leading her around the side of the car.

"What's your name, honey?" she heard the officer ask.

"Claire," the girl replied softly. "That's my mom."

"Okay, Claire, don't worry. Your mom is gonna be just fine. The ambulance is gonna be here in a few minutes, okay?"

A large hand grabbed her elbow and Mallory had to force herself not to pull away. "I'm Sergeant Wilson, miss. You said you live with Bobby Singer?"

"My uncle," Mallory repeated. "I'm Mallory." They had perpetuated that fiction to avoid any unsavory gossip after it was decided Mal would stay with Bobby. "Please, they set our house on fire..."

"I've got an engine on its way over," Wilson assured her. "Everything's going to be okay, Mallory."

Wilson was right, the ambulance arrived less than five minutes later. They let Claire ride with her mom, but Mallory followed with Wilson. She leaned forward, her fingers curling in the grate seperating her from the front seat. "Sergeant Wilson, my phone isn't working. Could you call my uncle, please?" she asked. "He's out of town and I really need him home right now."

But Bobby still wasn't answering. Neither were Dean or Sam. Mallory cursed mentally and resolved to whack all three men with her cane when they returned. Oh, damn... She'd left her cane behind. She buried her fingers in the ruff of thick fur around Crow's neck. She put her head down and, for the first time since the demons showed up, let herself indulge in a quiet freak-out.

XxxXxxX

Mallory decided she hated being blind. It wasn't a revelation or anything, she had come to that decision every day for the past month. But right now it really sucked beyond all belief. She was sitting in the waiting area of the local hospital, Crow at her side. Claire wasn't able to sit still, and was pacing in front of Mal, reaching out to touch Mal's arm every time she passed her. Mallory was both grateful and impressed Claire had caught on so quickly.

Someone cleared their throat nearby and Mal jerked her head around toward the noise. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Sergeant Wilson?" Mallory asked.

"That's right. Your car's been brought here to the hospital. Ah, if you don't mind, Claire, I think I'm gonna leave these with Mallory." A set of keys were placed in her hand. "You're a brave girl, helping save your mom and all, but you need to get a license before you try driving again, okay?"

"Okay," Claire said meekly, and Mallory instantly decided further driving lessons were in order.

"If it's okay, I've got a few questions for you girls," Wilson went on. "Do you mind?"

"No, no, that's fine," Mallory said, beckoning with one hand. Claire thankfully got the message and came to sit next to Mallory, allowing the older girl to put her arm around Claire's shoulders.

"Well, frankly, I need to know what happened," Wilson said. "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."

Mallory tightened her grip on Claire slightly, silently telling her to let Mal handle it. "Uncle Bobby went out of town for a few days to visit some friends," Mallory began. "Amelia and Claire stopped by last night. Then this morning...they came. They were throwing rocks through the windows, and then they set the house on fire."

"Can you describe the attackers for me?" Wilson pressed. "Did you know them?"

"No," Mallory said a bit too quickly. "We didn't know them. Amelia wasn't able to tell me much before she was knocked out and Claire..." She hugged Claire tighter again. "Tell him what you saw," she said.

"They were just people," Claire said in a subdued voice. "Just normal people."

"What happened to the house?" Mallory asked, chewing on her lip.

"The firefighters were able to get the fire out in time," Wilson assured her. "There's been some damage, but it's not extensive."

Mallory winced. She knew that most of the weapons were locked in Bobby's panic room (he didn't really trust her after that first night she was blind, locked in the bathroom with a knife), but she could just imagine the reactions of the firefighters to the more exotic of Bobby's various acquisitions. "Any luck getting in touch with Uncle Bobby?" she asked hopefully.

"None, I'm afraid," Wilson replied. "Claire, I talked to your mom's doctor. She's awake and wants to see you. Tricia over here can take you right up."

Claire slid her hand into Mallory's. "Thank you," Claire said softly. "I'd like that."

"Hi, I'm Tricia," the nurse introduced herself immediately. "Is your dog okay with elevators, Mallory?"

Mallory tightened her grip on Crow's harness. "I don't know," she admitted. "He's never been in one before."

"Well, why don't we give it a try? Mrs. Novak is on the third floor."

Mallory had no problem finding her way with Claire and Crow and it turned out Crow didn't mind elevators at all. When they reached Amelia's room, Claire dropped Mallory's hand and hurried forward. "Mom!"

"Claire! Oh, thank God, you're all right."

Mallory thanked Tricia and asked for a little privacy before entering the room herself. Crow led her over to the bed and plopped down on his hindquarters, panting softly. "Amelia, how you feeling?"

"Better. What happened?"

Mal grinned and fumbled for Claire before clapping the girl proudly on the shoulder. "Claire managed to drive us to safety."

"_What_?" There was horror and disbelief in Amelia's voice. "You let her drive a _car_?"

"Well, we wouldn't have gotten far if I'd been driving," Mal quipped, still smiling. "But seriously, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Amelia told her. She lowered her voice and went on, "What do we do next? The demons...they're still after us, aren't they?"

Mallory's grin evaporated. "Yeah, most likely," she said. "No one can get a hold of Bobby and I've even tried Cas. No luck. I'm getting the horrible feeling we're on our own here."

"What do we do?" Claire asked.

"We need to get out of here as soon as we can," Mallory replied. "It's only a matter of time before..." She trailed off when a certain noise came to her attention. "The lights are flickering, aren't they?" she asked bleakly.

"Um...yeah," Claire replied.

"Well, _crap_."

XXXXX

A/N: Yes, I do realize that these chapters have been rather short and I apologize. I prefer longer chapters myself. *pokes stupid plot bunny* Ow! No biting!

I posted a link at the bottom of my profile that will take you to a picture of what I envision Crow to look like. Thanks for still putting up with me! All of you guys totally rock!


	5. Chapter 5

Mallory wondered how and why it had fallen to her to lead the little group that had formed quite unexpectedly the night before. But it had and now she was once more trying to figure out how to get them out of this.

"Claire, go check for emergency exits on this floor," Mallory ordered. "Don't leave the room, just poke your head out. Amelia, did they leave your clothes here?"

"Yes..."

"Get dressed. _Hurry_!"

Claire returned, panting slightly in nervousness. "There's an emergency exit at the end of the hall. Is that good?"

"Very good," Mallory replied. "We're getting out of here."

"Where can we go?" Amelia asked, her voice slightly muffled. Mal shook her head.

"I don't know. Just somewhere away. We can't go back to Bobby's; they'll just expect that. We'll just have to hit the road and be unpredictable until we can get in contact with somebody. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, ready," Amelia confirmed. Mallory held out the car keys.

"Good. You're driving this time. Claire, lead the way."

Mallory knew it was impossible for her to go anywhere without attracting attention, not with Crow at her side, but they waited until Amelia said no one was looking before opening the emergency door and slipping out onto the fire escape. The alarm blared behind them as they hurried down the stairs. Mal kept one hand clamped around Crow's harness and prayed fervently she didn't trip over her own feet.

She did stumble, once, but Crow pushed her against the railing, effectively pinning her in place. "Are you okay?" Amelia demanded as she helped Mal to her feet.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

The first problem arose when the end of the staircase arrived a good seven feet before the ground did. Mallory hesitated at the edge as Amelia jumped down first and caught Claire. Mallory knelt down, clutching the railing with one hand and Crow with the other.

"Go," she ordered, pushing her dog toward the edge. "Go, Crow. Jump."

He pushed off from the staircase, landing a moment later with a thump. "He's okay," Amelia called up. "C'mon, Mallory. You need to jump!"

"Easier said than done," she muttered, not willing to release the railing. Amelia didn't understand what it was like. Mallory's world was what she could hear, smell, taste, but mainly what she could _touch_. She wasn't in any rush to fling herself into empty space and be unable to touch her world around her.

"Mallory!" Claire suddenly screamed. "They're _coming!_"

"_What_?" Mallory yelped.

"Hurry!" Claire yelled frantically.

Mallory swore under her breath and inched toward the edge, letting her legs swing off into space. A hand closed over her ankle. "I've got you, Mallory," Amelia said. "You have to jump, _now_!"

Crow barked, once and sharp, as if echoing Amelia's words. Mallory screwed her eyes shut out of pure instinct and swallowed against the knot in her stomach. Then she pushed herself off the edge. For a moment of abject terror, she was falling in the darkness, and then Amelia's arms were around her waist and they were stumbling backwards together.

"Where are they?" Mal demanded. "How many?"

"They're not coming yet," Amelia admitted sheepishly. "Claire just said that to get you down."

Mallory aimed a swat at where she imagined Claire to be. "Brat," she muttered without much heat. Crow bumped up against her legs. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"Do you have any idea where the car is parked?" Amelia asked.

"I have no idea even what this hospital looks like," Mal replied. "Never been here before. Where are we now?"

"Visitor parking," Amelia replied. Crow suddenly tugged Mallory forward and she realized they'd started walking. She followed quickly.

"We should check the patient's lot. Maybe it's there," Mal suggested, reaching up to claw her hair out of her face. Normally she kept it tied neatly back, but she'd lost her hair tie somewhere in the chaos since that morning.

Crow picked up his pace again and Mallory didn't feel comfortable jogging, but she was fairly sure Crow wouldn't let her run into anything. "Claire," she called. "Is there anyone following us? For real this time."

"No, not yet," Claire panted in reply. "For real."

"Good, that's...good," Mallory said. It _was_ good, because if any demons did catch up to them, there was exactly squat they could do. They had no salt, no iron, and no holy water. Amelia didn't know how to draw a devil's trap and Mal had no idea how much Claire had absorbed from Castiel. Mal had memorized an all-purpose exorcism, but that wouldn't be much good if the demon was capable of choking the life out of her.

"I found it!" Amelia suddenly cried. "Over here!"

Mallory dithered for a moment, unsure of where to go, and then Claire's hand grabbed her sleeve and yanked her to the right. Crow was guiding her again, steady and calm under her hand until they reached the car. Mal got in the back this time with Crow, fumbling with the seat belt until she got it buckled.

"Just get to the nearest highway and pick a direction," Mallory ordered. "South, maybe. Or west. Just anywhere but here." She checked her phone. It was getting service. "Finally," she muttered. "Call Bobby," she ordered. She got his voice mail again. "Bobby, where the hell are you?" she demanded. "We got smoked out of the house and we're on the road, trying to get...somewhere safe, I don't know. There are demons on our ass and we need help asap." She hung up with a frustrated growl. "Men! Never there when you need them."

"Do...do you really think we're gonna get through this?" Claire asked in a tiny voice.

"Yes!" Mallory and Amelia both said at the same time. "We're gonna be fine," Mal continued. "All we have to do is stay one step ahead of them until Dean and Sam find us, okay? Bobby'll send them our way as soon as he can."

Silence fell in the car and Mallory refused to think about what would happen if the Winchester brothers didn't find them in time. She cleared her throat and asked, "Amelia, how you holding up?"

"I'm fine," the older woman replied. Mallory snorted.

"Hey, you don't have to pull that with me, okay? You have a concussion. Tell me how you really are."

Amelia sighed. "They gave me painkillers. My head doesn't hurt that much but I'm feeling a little dizzy. And a bit sensitive to light."

Mallory nodded. "Okay. If you start feeling sick, pull over. Claire can take over driving."

Claire giggled nervously and Amelia made a strangled noise. "No, I think I'll be okay," she said hurriedly.

XxxXxxX

Mallory didn't even realize she'd fallen asleep until she felt someone shaking her shoulder. "Mallory?" Claire called softly. "Mallory, wake up."

"Hmm?" Mal asked ingeniously, lifting her head from where it rested on Crow's warm back. "What is it?"

"Mom wants to know if it'd be safe to stop to get something to eat. We just hit a town and it's almost dark, so..."

Mallory rubbed her eyes. "Where are we?" she asked around a yawn.

"Topeka," Amelia replied.

Mallory blinked and sat straight up. "What? Crap! That's like, six hours! You let me sleep that long?"

"You were tired," Amelia replied. "You haven't got much more sleep than we have, and I have to stay awake anyway. But Claire's getting hungry. What about you?"

Mallory pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. "Um...yeah. We should stop and get some food. But not in a restaurant. We need to stop and find a motel first. Then a supermarket. We've got some things we need to pick up, first." She dropped her hand and faced front. "How's your money situation, Amelia?"

"We, uh, have a little saved up. I started working after Jimmy left, but I don't know how long it'll last if we have to keep moving."

"Don't worry about it, then," Mallory said, waving her hand. "I'll take care of it."

"No, really, Mallory, it's okay," Amelia tried to protest, but Mallory cut her off.

"I said, don't worry about it, Amelia. I'm serious. Sam hacked into my old account for me and transferred the funds to a new account." She rubbed the side of her nose. "My family is...very well off. I've got plenty to take care of us. Just pull into the nearest grocery store. Everything we need should be there."

"What _do_ we need?" Claire asked.

Mallory figured this would be as good a time as any to see how prepared the girl was. "What do you think we need?" she countered.

"Um...salt. If we're gonna stay at a motel, we need to salt the windows, like Sam and Dean said to. And iron. Fireplace sets are still made out of iron. Water and chalk... We can bless the water and we'll need to set devil's traps."

Mallory's eyebrows shot up. "You know how to draw a devil's trap?" she asked, impressed. "Did Sam and Dean teach you that?"

"No..." Claire replied uncertainly. "I think...I think Castiel taught me to do that." She was silent a moment, and then continued, "We'll need a rosary. Where do you get one of those?"

"I have one," Mallory said. "Good thinking, Claire." She rubbed the side of her nose again. "Since trying to get a hold of some guns probably isn't a great idea, we'll just have to go with that for now."

She felt the car slow down, turn, and slow even more to a crawl. After a moment, Amelia parked. "Why don't you and Claire wait in the car while I go in?"

"No," Mallory said firmly. "We stick together."

They were successful in getting everything they needed in a minimum amount of time, with Mallory remembering at the last minute to grab dog food. She hadn't been lying when she told Amelia she could take care of things; Sam had indeed helped her drain her savings and redeposit the money into an account with a new name. And her family _was_ very well off.

Dinner was drive-through and they eventually crashed at a cheap motel off the interstate for a quick getaway if necessary. While Mal worked on blessing the water, Amelia salted the windows and doors and Claire laid out the devil's traps.

"I think it's safe for you to get some sleep now," Mal told Amelia. "I'll wake you up every couple of hours, but the two of you need to get some rest."

"What about you?" Amelia asked. Mal clicked her tongue and patted her thigh, waiting for Crow to come to her side.

"We'll keep watch," she replied. "Animals, especially pets like cats and dogs, don't like demons and ghosts and stuff. Crow will let me know if anything nasty comes close. I know where the holy water is," she continued, pointing to the table. "So I'll be fine. Get some sleep, Amelia."

"Fine," Amelia finally agreed. "But wake me up every two hours, okay?"

"Okay," Mallory said, nodding. Within half an hour, the motel room was silent except for the sound of soft breathing.

XxxXxxX

When morning came without incident, Mallory almost let herself believe they'd lost the demons trailing them. But she also knew never to trust to luck.

Claire woke up first, joining Mallory at the table as quietly as possible. "Didn't you get any sleep at all?" she asked?"

"Sure I did," Mallory replied cheerfully. "In the car on the way here."

"Not what I meant," Claire muttered. There came a sound Mallory instantly recognized as someone scratching Crow between his shoulder blades. "I like your dog," Claire said. "He was pretty cool when he got that demon off you. I didn't know seeing eye dogs were trained like that."

"Most aren't," Mallory replied. "Crow's a guardian, too. They train dogs to be both for blind people who live on their own. Bobby thought that would be the best option for me, considering what sort of lifestyle he leads."

"Cool," Claire said again.

Mallory smiled faintly. "Yeah." She paused for a moment, and then went on, "Hey, Claire, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"How much did Castiel leave behind?"

Claire was silent for a long time. "I...I don't really know. It's hard to tell. Sometimes I get these...flashes, and I don't know where they're from. Like memories, but they aren't mine. Mostly it's just smells, or sounds. And then, it's like I can't remember him at all. But when I dream..."

"You always dream his memories," Mallory finished when Claire trailed off.

"Yeah." The girl was quiet again, and then, "Is that what it's like for you?"

Mal nodded. "Ami and I were together longer than you and Cas were, though. About three weeks. I saw a lot of Ami's mind, sometimes even when she didn't mean to. It can be a little overwhelming."

"I know."

Mal tilted her head. "Are you okay, though? Did he show you anything that scared you? I mean, are you sleeping okay?"

"I'm fine," Claire said quickly. "I know Mom doesn't think so, but Castiel...he was...gentle with me, I guess. He didn't want to hurt me. You know, if anyone should be not okay, it's Mom. She got possessed by a demon."

The older girl winced. "Ouch," she said sympathetically. "That couldn't have been fun."

"Sam got it out of her," Claire told her softly. "We're all okay."

The girls sat quietly for a while. "Mallory?" Claire asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"How did your angel die?"

Mallory flinched as if she'd been struck, hissing in a breath.

"I'm sorry!" Claire exclaimed. "I didn't mean...I'm sorry!"

"No, it's okay," Mallory assured her. "It's just...Ami died saving my life. Well, mine and Cas' and the others. There was this guy...Belial. He was an evil angel—long story—and he had us cornered in this warehouse. I panicked and he grabbed me...was gonna kill me. Cas tried to trade himself for me, but Belial wouldn't deal and...Ami came out of me and attacked Belial head on. Ripped him free of his vessel and then...I dunno. They both sort of...exploded." She waved her hand at her face. "'S how I went blind."

Claire didn't respond for a moment, and then warm fingers closed over Mal's hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Mallory squeezed gently and smiled.

"Thanks."

Amelia woke up a few minutes later and after a moment of searching, realized she'd left her toiletries in the car. As soon as the door closed behind her, Crow lunged to his feet, fur bristling and a deep growl rumbling in his chest.

Claire and Mallory realized what that meant at the same time. "Mom!" Claire screamed as she raced to the door. Mal grabbed the ice bucket as the door slammed open and chucked the contents in that direction with all her strength. A man's scream cut the air, accompanied by the sizzle of steam and the stench of sulfur.

"Crow! Take 'em down!" Mal yelled, and the dog bounded from her side with a snarl. She heard the impact of bodies and Crow kept growling. "Talk, buddy!" Mal ordered, grabbing a bottle from the table. Crow barked obediently and Mal crossed the motel room in three strides. She upended the bottle and was rewarded by more screams and renewed sizzling.

"Amelia!" she called. "Claire! You okay?"

"I'm here," Amelia panted.

"Get him inside," Mallory ordered. "Into the devil's trap. Hurry!" She grabbed Crow's harness and tugged him off the demon so Amelia could drag him over to the seal chalked onto the middle of the floor. Mal shut the door and threw the bolts.

"Is this a good idea?" Claire squeaked.

"Best one I've had all day," Mallory replied with false bravado. Inside she was chanting, _Oh, God, please don't let me mess this up._ Then she turned and walked over to the trap, stopping out of arm's reach. "Okay, bozo," she growled. "Listen up. We've got some questions and you've got answers. You know how this works."

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," the demon spat. "You think I'm just gonna spill my guts to _you_?"

Mallory smirked. "Well, you _did_ just get owned by a blind girl," she pointed out. She half turned. "Amelia, you stay with me. Claire, take Crow and wait outside, okay? Keep an eye out for motel management. There may be complaints about someone screaming."

XXXXX

Yay! Finally got a long chapter! *does happy dance* I hope you guys like. You are all rock stars! I send you all virtual chocolate.


	6. Chapter 6

Mallory took a deep breath and steeled her for what was coming next. She was about to torture someone—demon or not, it didn't matter—in cold blood. How had she come this far? She squared her shoulders. Didn't matter at the moment. Staying alive and keeping the Novaks safe were top priority.

"Amelia, holy water," she ordered, gesturing. "Just in case he won't talk."

"Got it," Amelia replied, sounding surprisingly steady. Mallory crossed her arms over her chest.

"All right, let's make this simple," Mallory began. "How many of you are there, who sent you, and what the hell do you want?"

The demon only hissed in reply and Mallory flicked her fingers at Amelia. Water splashed and flesh sizzled, drawing a strangled cry of pain from the demon. "I said, what do you want?" Mallory growled. She could do this. She'd gotten plenty of experience acting just surviving her home life. She could play tough for half an hour.

"You know, you must be a real loser," Mal taunted. "I mean, look at you, caught by a bunch of _girls_. So, why don't you tell me what you want, and we'll pretend this never happened?"

"What do you think we want?" the demon snarled.

"I'm pretty sure you want to kill us," Mallory guessed. "I want to know why." There was no answer. She flicked her fingers at Amelia again. "Tell. Me. _Why_!"

The demon screeched and Mallory hoped the motel room was at least marginally soundproof. Either way, they'd have to clear out of there pretty fast afterward. "_You_ don't matter," the demon hissed. "_You're_ of no use anymore. Burned out. Broken. _Your_ angel is dead. We want the girl."

"You say away from my daughter you, son of a bitch!" Amelia shrieked, and the demon screamed again. Mallory reached out until her fingers brushed Amelia's shirt.

"Amelia!" she barked. "Calm down. You're not helping." She tightened her hold on Amelia's shirt and tugged backwards. "One wrong move, and he's out of that trap," she continued in a low voice. "He kills all of us. So calm down, okay? Tell me, Amelia!"

"Okay," Amelia panted. "Okay."

"Right." Mallory slowly released Amelia. "Douse him again." She waited until the demon stopped moaning. "So what if Claire's a vessel," she said. "What does that matter to you? She's not hosting anyone. She'll never say yes again."

"There's one she already agreed to," the demon replied.

_Castiel_. Mallory chewed her lip, her mind frantically trying to unravel the demon's meaning. Claire already said yes to Castiel once, that means Castiel could return to the little girl at any time, but why would he? He already had Jimmy...unless something happened to Jimmy...

"Oh, God," Mallory gasped, her sightless eyes widening.

"Mallory?" Amelia asked. "What is it?"

"They're trying to kill Castiel," Mallory said, her words tumbling from her mouth. "They're going to destroy his vessel and any vessel he might take. But _why_? He's just one angel! He's not even all that powerful anymore!"

Amelia didn't have to be prompted this time. "He stands in the way," the demon panted. "Between us and the vessel of Lucifer. Remove the angel, the Winchester brothers are ours."

Mallory considered this for a moment. "Okay," she said at length. "Amelia, you might want to stand back for this."

"What are you going to do?" Amelia demanded.

Mal grinned, all teeth and no humor. "I'm gonna send this bastard back to hell. _Exorciamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursion infernalis adversarii..._"

The screaming started again, and this time didn't stop.

XxxXxxX

Claire was pretty sure she knew what was going on inside the hotel room, and was equally sure she didn't want to see it. From the screams she could hear muffled by the door, she was probably right. She sat on the sidewalk, one arm slung over Crow's shoulders as she huddled next to the dog. He was a pretty cool dog, just like she'd told Mallory. Bigger than most dogs she'd been around but mostly calm and well-behaved. Except when Mallory told him to take someone down. Then he was all teeth and bristling fur.

Right now he sat rigid and alert beside her, staring out across the parking lot with his ears pricked for any sign of danger. Claire brushed her bangs out of her face and tried not to let herself feel terrified. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye, exactly like it had before. One minute her dad was home and life was normal, the next, he was gone. Then he was back with no warning and guess what? Angels were real! So were demons, and then they'd had to run, move to a new town because Dad and the Winchesters didn't think they were safe. Now everything had caught up with them and there were no angels to rescue them this time.

Only Mallory.

Claire thought Mallory was pretty cool. She was really young, probably not even twenty yet, and even though she was blind, she still knew what she was doing. She knew how to keep them safe. But what if Mallory wasn't enough? What if they made a mistake? Claire shuddered and hugged Crow a little tighter. He turned and nosed her cheek briefly before returning to his watch.

Something chirruped in Claire's pocket and she jumped with a quiet yelp. She pulled out Mallory's cellphone with a frown. She didn't even remember picking it up. "Call from Bobby," it announced in a neutral, robotic voice. Claire flipped it open and held it up to her ear.

"H-hello?"

"_Mal, where the hell are you?"_ a gruff, male voice demanded. _"We've been looking everywhere for you!"_

Claire giggled, fighting against the rising bubble of hysteria in her chest. "Mallory's busy being a badass," she said, and giggled again. "She can't come to the phone right now."

"_What?"_ the man—presumably Bobby—demanded. _"Who is this?"_

"I'm Claire. Claire Novak."

"_What? You mean Jimmy's Claire?"_

"Yeah," Claire replied, nodding.

"_What are you doing with Mal's phone? Where is she?"_

The screams coming from inside finally stopped and Claire breathed a sigh of relief. "I think she just finished up an exorcism," Claire told Bobby. "I'll see if she can talk." Without waiting for Bobby's reply, she jumped to her feet and knocked on the door. "It's me!" she called.

Her mom opened the door just wide enough for her and Crow to slip inside. Mallory was sitting on the bed, looking exhausted. She was pale to begin with, but now her skin looked transparent, her white-blonde hair falling over her blank, gray eyes.

In the middle of the room, the demon-possessed man lay on the floor, limbs sprawled and clothing soaked. Claire eyed him uneasily. "Is he...alive?"

"Yeah," Mallory said, sounding relieved. "He's gonna be fine."

"Good," Claire said. She held out the phone. "Bobby wants to talk to you."

Mallory's face lit up and she held out her hand eagerly. As soon as Claire plopped the phone in her hand, Mallory had it to her ear. "Bobby! What the hell is going on? I've called, like, a hundred times!" Her expression instantly fell. "What do you mean, you never got them? I left voice mails... I don't know...Yeah, sorry about that, the demons caught up to us." Mallory paused to roll her eyes. "The ones chasing Amelia and Claire. Yes, the Novaks, who else? I said I was sorry, Bobby. Yes, I did just perform an exorcism. We needed the information..." Her eyes darted to Claire and then to Amelia. "Um...not over the phone, please. Can you just send Sam and Dean to pick us up? A motel in Topeka, but we can't stay, the exorcism was a little noisy. Okay. Okay, we'll meet them there. Yeah, thanks Bobby."

Mallory hung up the phone and stuck it in her pocket. "Bobby says Sam and Dean are on their way. They'll be her in about six hours. They're gonna meet us at St. Augustine's Chapel. We should probably head out as soon as we can."

"What about him?" Amelia asked, looking over at the former demon. Claire edged a little further away from him.

"Someone probably called the police," Mallory replied, getting to her feet. "He'll be okay. Let's go." Crow loped over to her side at a hand gesture and Claire helped her mom pack their overnight bags. Amelia paused to put her hand on Claire's shoulder.

"Everything's going to be fine. You know that, right, honey?"

Claire smiled up at her mom. "Yeah, I know, Mom." And Claire breathed another prayer to Castiel to _come soon, please_.

XxxXxxX

Mal tried to resist the urge to feel relieved when they arrived at the church an hour later with no trouble. There was always time for something to go wrong. The church was empty and quiet as they entered and made their way to the sanctuary. It would be a while before the Winchesters arrived, but at least if they stayed on holy ground, the lower-class demons couldn't get to them.

"Mallory?" Amelia asked after they'd settled down in a pew near the back of the sanctuary.

"Yeah?" she replied absently.

"What were you doing...before all of this. Before you accepted the angel?"

"College," Mallory said with a rueful smile. "Second year of nursing school at University of Detroit Mercy. I wanted to work in trauma care. Now I'm thinking, if the world doesn't end, I'd like to go into counseling." Crow put his head on her knee and she knuckled him between his ears the way he liked.

"If the world doesn't end," Amelia repeated softly.

"Are they really going to stop it?" Claire asked. "The Apocalypse, I mean. Castiel...he really wanted to stop it."

Mallory located Claire by the direction of her voice and patted her leg comfortingly. "Yeah. They really are gonna stop it. If anyone can, it's Castiel and Sam and Dean."

"I wish I could do something to help," Claire said, sounding almost disappointed.

"Oh, I don't think so, missy," Amelia replied, amused. "I think we have enough on our plate at the moment."

Mal stiffened when the door behind her swung open. "Who is it?" she hissed at Amelia.

"It's...a boy. Around your age. A demon can't enter a church, right?"

"The really powerful ones can," Mallory murmured. "What's he doing?"

"He's walking toward the altar," Amelia replied quietly. "He didn't even look at us."

"Get the stuff ready, just in case," Mallory ordered. They'd brought in a bag with holy water and salt. Better safe than sorry. She heard Amelia open the bag and then press a bottle of holy water into her hand. They huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, and waited.

"I'm afraid those won't be of any use against me," the voice of the young man floated back to them.

Mallory's heart splashed somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. "_Shit_," she hissed.

"There's no point in trying to escape, Mallory," the young man continued. "I've already sealed the whole building."

Claire, sitting on Mal's left, latched onto Mallory's arm, her breathe fast and shallow. Amelia shifted on Mal's right. "What do we do now?" the older woman whispered.

"I don't know," Mallory whispered back. Raising her voice, she called, "Who are you?"

"My name is Shoftiel," he replied easily.

"You're an angel?" Mallory demanded.

"Yes."

The revelation did nothing to reassure Mallory, but Amelia leaned over and asked, "Is this good?"

"No," Mallory said quickly. "No, I don't think so." Once more turning her attention back to the young man—angel—she asked, "What do you want with us?"

"I've been waiting for you for a a few days now," Shoftiel said. His voice grew closer and Mallory felt Claire, Amelia, and Crow all tense around her. "It has taken a great deal of manipulation to draw you from safety. Demons are not easy to control."

"You set the demons on us?" Amelia demanded in disbelief.

Shoftiel laughed. "No. I merely allowed them to discover your location. The rest was easy. All I had to do was block you cellphone until you were sufficient distance from the home of Bobby Singer. Now the Winchesters are on their way here. I knew they would. All I had to do was dangle the right bait."

Mallory heard his footsteps approaching them and Crow growled. "Stay away from us," she snarled, acutely aware of how helpless they were. To her surprise, Shoftiel stopped.

"Ah, yes, the blind guardian. You thought you would actually be able to keep the Novaks safe?"

Amelia slid her hand into Mallory's and squeezed tightly. "I thought she was doing a pretty good job," she said bravely. Mallory squeezed back gratefully.

"Perhaps against the demons," Shoftiel said. "Not against me."

Mallory cried out when she felt herself abruptly yanked forward, the back of the pew in front of her digging into her stomach. Then she was pulled sideways, hitting the ground hard and rolling. Crow barked and started snarling, which ended abruptly in a choked whimper. Mallory tried to get up but a hand fell heavily on her back, forcing her back down.

"Mallory!" Claire screamed. "Let her go! _Mallory_!"

"Be silent, child," Shoftiel ordered, and there was another thump and Amelia frantically called Claire's name.

"Leave them alone, you bastard," Mallory tried to growl, but it came out more of a weak gasp. "Why are you even doing this?"

"I am cleaning up the mess," Shoftiel said disdainfully. "You have no idea what you've done, have you, Mallory? How much you've interfered with the plans of heaven?"

"Like I care," she spat, again trying to get up and again forced down.

"You accepted Amitiel, the exile. Did you know she was to be executed?" Shoftiel said quietly, his mouth very close to Mallory's ear. "You're the vessel of a fallen angel, Mallory. You cannot be allowed to persist. You and the girl both must die. Heaven has ordered it."

Mallory struck out wildly. "You touch her and I'll kill you," she hissed. "I swear to God!"

He laughed again. "What do you think you could do to me?" he asked. "You are blind, Mallory. Useless. Helpless. How did you even imagine you would be of any good to the Novaks?"

She snarled, a wordless sound of rage, surging up from the ground with enough strength to break Shoftiel's hold on her. She flung herself forward, hands clawed and flailing, as if trying to rip the angel to shreds. Shoftiel snorted derisively and swatted her aside. Mallory struggled to her feet again and threw herself at him once more. This time he caught her shoulder in an iron grasp and there was a sudden, sharp pain in her stomach.

Mallory gasped, her back stiffening. There was a tugging sensation in her abdomen and then Shoftiel released her. Her legs gave out and she collapsed on the ground, her hands fumbling at her stomach, to the source of the burning pain. Warm wetness slid through her fingers, and the copper tang of blood reached her nostrils.

The pain grew, burning white-hot while the rest of her body grew cold. Already she couldn't feel her legs. She tried to drag in a breath but choked instead and coughed, blood dribbling from her lips. "No," she whispered. "Please..." She retched, bringing up more blood. "_Castiel_..."

A light grew in the darkness, expanding as it swallowed the darkness. Mallory struggled against it, fought it with all her ebbing strength. She wasn't ready. She didn't want to go. But the light grew brighter and stronger until, with one final, choking breath, it consumed her.

Mallory finally stopped trying to breathe and her body fell still.


	7. Chapter 7

Claire opened her eyes to see her mother's concerned face hovering over her. "Claire? Honey, are you okay?"

The girl pushed herself upright, eyes searching...She gasped in horror when she found Mallory crumpled on the floor in front of the altar. The front of her shirt and the carpet beneath her were stained dark red. Shoftiel stood over Mallory, looking down at her with a thoughtful expression. Then he turned and looked directly at Claire.

Amelia got to her feet, squaring off with Shoftiel. "Leave us alone," she ordered, her voice shaking but her fists clenched at her sides. Shoftiel gave her a dismissive look.

"You have no significance in this, Amelia Novak," he said, and waved his hand almost lazily. Amelia was thrown off her feet, hit her already bruised skull on the ground, and rolled to a halt, unmoving.

"Mom!" Claire called, starting forward, but suddenly Shoftiel was directly in front of her, staring down at her. Claire swallowed thickly. The thing was, the angel didn't _look_ frightening. He was just a boy, no older than Mallory, less than six feet tall, with floppy hair that hung over his hazel eyes. He was wearing a hoodie over a skater t-shirt. But the sword in his right hand was stained with Mallory's blood, dripping silently from the tip of the blade.

"I am sorry for this, Claire," he said solemnly. "But it needs to be done. Castiel must die, and his vessels must be destroyed. Heaven has commanded it."

Tears slid down Claire's cheeks as she scrambled backwards between the pews. Shoftiel followed her easily, advancing until her back was pressed against a wall. She stared up at him, at the blade in his hand. She would _not_ beg. It wouldn't do any good, anyway. Shoftiel lifted the blade, his expression almost apologetic, and Claire closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

"Step away from her."

The four words fell like bombs, exploding into silence. Claire's eyes flew open and Shoftiel froze, his sword raised above his head. Claire couldn't see the speaker, couldn't see if it was who she thought it was...but it was _impossible_!

Shoftiel slowly turned to face his challenger and Claire's breath fled her lungs as she stared, open mouthed. Standing in front of the altar, shirt still bloodstained, was Mallory. There was more blood on her lips and chin, but she didn't even seem to notice, her head up and shoulders back. Then Claire gasped.

Mallory was _looking_ straight at Shoftiel! She could _see_ him! Her eyes narrowed. "I said," she repeated in a dangerous voice. "Step away from her."

Shoftiel did, his entire attention on the young woman in front of him. "You cannot have survived," he said slowly, eying her warily.

"You far underestimated me," Mallory retorted. "Leave while you can, Shaftiel. Please don't make me destroy you."

The angel laughed derisively. "You are weak, barely recovered. You could not possibly overpower me."

A sword, looking just like the one Shaftiel carried, slid down from Mallory's sleeve into her hand. "You underestimated me once. Would you like to do so again?"

Shoftiel's eyes slid from Mallory to Claire and back again, his expression unreadable. Then he whirled around, his sword driving down toward Claire. She didn't have time to scream before Mallory was in front of her and the clang of striking swords rang out like a bell in the sanctuary. All Claire could see was Mallory's back, bowed with effort, her shoulders tense and quivering. Then Mallory pushed forward and Shoftiel stumbled back a few steps. Mallory lunged for him but just as her sword would have struck him, he vanished. Mallory skidded to a halt, her head twisting back and forth as her eyes scoured the room.

Mallory could _see_. When the hell had that happened? Claire watched, still speechless, as Mallory slid the sword up the sleeve of her shirt and then paced over to Claire, going down on one knee to look her in the face. "Claire," she said gently. "Are you all right?"

"M-Mallory, what—what is going on?" Claire stammered. The older girl smiled faintly.

"I'm not Mallory. But she is here, inside." The girl reached up to tap the side of her head. "She is resting. The shock of being stabbed has driven her unconscious."

Claire shrunk against the wall, suddenly understanding what this person was. Even though she had undoubtedly saved Claire's life, considering what Shoftiel had tried to do Claire still felt that she had the right to be suspicious. "Who are you?" she asked softly.

"My name is Amitiel," the girl said, still smiling. "I'm a friend of Castiel's. It's all right, Claire, I'm here to protect you."

"But Mallory said you were dead!" Claire exclaimed, her eyes wide. Amitiel suddenly looked sad.

"I'm not surprised she came to that conclusion. I very nearly was." She held out her hand and helped Claire to her feet. "But I'm here, now. And we don't have much time before Shoftiel returns with reinforcements."

Amitiel strode over to where Amelia lay, Claire at her side. When the angel crouched by her mother, Claire went down on her knees, grabbing her mom's hand. "Is she gonna be okay?" she asked urgently. Amitiel gently probed her fingers over Amelia's skull.

"I believe she will be fine," Amitiel finally said, giving Claire a reassuring smile. "And now," Once more she got to her feet. Claire didn't follow, choosing to stay with her mother. She watched the angel cross the room and come to a stop in the center aisle. Claire gave a tiny murmur of sorrow. She hadn't even noticed Crow's broken body lying in a crumpled heap where Shoftiel had flung him. Amitiel knelt down beside the dog and picked his head up to lie in her lap, stroking his ears gently.

She sat there like that for a long time, just petting the dog. Claire wondered what she was doing but didn't dare ask. All of the sudden, Crow's body twitched. Claire jerked in surprise. Then the dog began to wag his tail weakly, his ears pricking up.

"You are a brave animal, Crow," Amitiel murmured softly. "Loyal to your mistress." She smiled and ruffled his ears one more time. "Good boy."

"How did you do that?" Claire demanded. Amitiel looked up, her pale gray eyes meeting Claire's blue ones.

"Healing an animal is not as difficult as healing a human. Their minds are not as delicate and they have no souls to rebuild. Mallory is very fond of Crow. She would be upset if anything happened to him, and I do not like her to be upset." She got to her feet and Crow jumped up beside her, still wagging his tail slightly and looking up at her worshipfully. "It's time to go."

Claire frowned. "But Sam and Dean are on their way," she began, and then Amitiel was at her side again, Crow loping over to join them.

"I will ensure the Winchesters' safety," Amitiel promised. "Now I must see to yours." She reached up to touch Claire's forehead and Claire blinked.

They were back in Bobby's living room. Most of the furniture was gone and there were soot and water marks on the walls. Amitiel lifted Amelia as if she weighed nothing and deposited her gently on the couch.

"Bobby!" she called. "Bobby, I need you!"

Claire jerked in surprise when a man came barreling around the corner in a wheelchair. He was a big man despite being confined to the chair, with a grizzly beard and a cap pulled low over a glowering face. "Mal? Goddammit, girl what is going on?" he growled. "I thought you said you were in Topeka!"

"We were, and I am not Mallory," Amitiel replied calmly. "This is Claire Novak and her mother, Amelia. Please protect them. I must find Dean and Sam before they stumble into the trap." She turned to look at Claire. "Goodbye, Claire. I will see you soon." Then her gaze transferred to Crow. "Take care of Claire," she told him. The next second, she was gone.

Claire blinked, lifting her eyes from where Amitiel had been standing. Bobby was staring at her as if she was a ghost...or something. She offered him a tiny smile. "Hi."

XxxXxxX

There very nearly was a car accident when the girl appeared in the backseat of the Impala while Dean was pushing ninety. There was barely a minute between his glances to the rear view mirror for police lights, but during one the backseat was empty, and the next Mallory was sitting in the middle, staring through the mirror at him with an intent expression.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean yelled, fighting to regain control of the car. Sam twisted around, eyes wild as he saw the girl.

"No," she said slowly, her brows drawing together.

"Mallory?" Sam said in disbelief. "What the hell—?" Then he caught sight of the bloodstain spread across her stomach. "Oh, God, are you—What's going on?"

"I am not Mallory," the girl said impatiently. "I'm Amitiel."

Sam's eyes went round. "Ami?" he breathed. "But we thought you were—"

"Dead, I know," she finished. "For a while _I_ thought I was dead, so I'll forgive the mistake. You need to stop the car, Dean. You're driving into a trap."

"_What_?"

"Pull over and I'll tell you everything," Amitiel insisted. Dean obliged her before turning to stare at her, looking her up and down.

"You look terrible," he said bluntly.

Amitiel glanced down at herself and touched the bloodstain on her shirt with her fingertips. "It's not important," she said. "I've already taken care of the injury."

"Ami, what is going on?" Sam said, shaking his head.

The angel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Heaven has sent an elimination team after Castiel and, now that they know I'm alive, they will come for me, as well. The angel sent after Claire used the demons to drive her and her mother from safety in order to kill Claire and use them both as bait to trap the two of you. Killing Mallory was a bonus." She touched the bloodstain again. "If I had not been there, Shoftiel would have succeeded."

"Wait a second," Dean interrupted. "You and Cas have angel hit men on your asses?"

She puzzled through that for a moment. "Yes?" she said hesitantly, unsure of whether she had interpreted the phrase correctly. She waved a hand before Dean could speak again. "Shoftiel will have received reinforcements by now. We have to find Castiel. When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"A couple of days," Sam began, but Amitiel cut him off.

"That's not much good. We won't be able to contact him, they're probably blocking your phones just like they blocked Mallory's."

Silence fell in the Impala for a moment. Then Sam cleared his throat to attract Amitiel's attention. "You, uh, you got," he trailed off and pointed wordlessly to his chin. Amitiel frowned and reached up to touch her own chin. Her fingertips came away bloody. She wiped the rest of the blood away with her sleeve.

"So what's our next move?" Dean demanded. Amitiel sighed.

"Castiel could be anywhere on earth. If I am going to find him before Shoftiel, then I need to begin now. You should return to Bobby's home and help him protect the Novaks. The angels will try for them again."

"No, we're coming with you," Dean insisted. "If you're going up against angels, you need back-up."

"Perhaps, but not from you," Amitiel said, shaking her head. "I will need to move quickly, and carrying passengers will only slow me down."

"We're big boys, Ami, we can keep up," Dean said. "Besides, it's not like you can stop us."

Amitiel gave him a flat look and vanished with the sound of wings and disturbed air. They boys blinked for a moment at the place where she had been, and then Sam reached over to smack Dean upside the head.

"Nice going, smartass," he growled.

XxxXxxX

Mallory drifted in the darkness for a long time before she realized she wasn't dead. That discovery drove her to full awakening, which in turn lead to two more discoveries. She could _see_, and she was in Moscow.

She wanted to scream with shock and not a little bit of joy, but her body wasn't responding to her commands. Rather than freak out, however, she only got more excited. _Ami? Oh, my God, Ami, is that you?_

"_Hello, Mallory."_

Mallory threw herself at the angel's presence, wanting to embrace her but only able to project her sheer giddiness at the fact Amitiel was alive. The angel chuckled softly.

"_Yes, it's good to see you, too, child,"_ Amitiel told her. _"It's been hard for you over the past few weeks. I am sorry for that."_

_Who cares about that?_ Mallory said dismissively. _You're back!_ She froze as a thought occurred to her. _Wait, if you survived, then Belial didn't—? _

"_No, Belial is gone,"_ Amitiel reassured her. _"I made very certain of that."_

_Oh, good. Um...what are we doing in Moscow?_

Amitiel stood in the middle of the Red Square, looking up at St. Basil's Cathedral. Cold rain poured down from the overcast sky, drenching Mallory's thin clothing. Mal couldn't care less because, for one, _Ami was back!_ And two, she could _see_! She drank in the colors of the square hungrily.

"_I am looking for Castiel,"_ Amitiel replied. Mallory felt the angel flex her wings, shuffling the tawny feathers into place across her back. _"I'm afraid I had to take a brief rest. The battle with Belial took more from me than I would like to admit."_

Mallory's joy abruptly vanished into panic. _Shoftiel said he was trying to kill Cas!_ she exclaimed worriedly. _Ami, what are we gonna do?_

"_Find Castiel before he or the other eliminators do,"_ Amitiel replied evenly. Mallory fell silent but she still fluttered restlessly around the back of Amitiel's mind until the angel sent a wave of soothing emotion towards the girl, helping her calm down.

_Okay,_ Mallory said. _We can do this. I mean, how hard can it be to find one angel among six billion humans?_

Amitiel chuckled again and stretched her wings in preparation for departure. _"Oh, Mallory, what you did for the Novaks,"_ she said with a smile in her voice. _"I just want you to know, I am so proud of you."_


	8. Chapter 8

Amitiel found Castiel in Galway. She couldn't pinpoint her brother's location, not since she'd been cut off from heaven, but she knew he was somewhere in the city. She had to find him quickly before he left and she'd have to begin her search all over again.

She called for her brother for a few minutes, hoping he'd respond. But she'd already known the likelihood of that working to be slim. Their ability to communicate telepathically had been severely diminished and besides, Castiel would be guarding himself against their other brothers and sisters.

The angel strode through the streets between the quaint buildings, the smell of salt from the nearby ocean heavy in the air. Mallory was awake and soaking in the sights and smells, but she did her best not to distract Amitiel. Amitiel found herself more and more grateful she had discovered that the frightened girl in the rapist's basement was a vessel.

Something stirred at the very edge of Amitiel's senses. She frowned and slowed to a halt, reaching out to try to get a better feel. After a moment of trying she realized she couldn't clarify the source and growled in frustration. She manifested her sword, sliding it down her sleeve and curling her hand around the unwrapped hilt. She'd be ready for anything. Then she spread her wings and shifted toward the disturbance.

The stench of sulfur struck her the instant she landed and Amitiel struck before she took complete stock of the situation. The demon that had been unlucky enough to be nearest screamed as Amitiel's sword plunged under his ribs, angling up through the lungs to pierce the heart. She yanked her blade free and the demon was dead before he hit the ground.

Two of the remaining turned on her, their own knives glinting in the watery sunlight. As the first lunged, Amitiel dodged aside, letting him pass her, and darted forward to engage the other. The demon met the angel blade for blade, but Amitiel had the advantage of additional appendages. She struck out with one tawny wing, hitting the demon across the face with enough force to snap her spine. The demon stumbled backwards, blood from a broken nose and split lip trickling down her face. Amitiel spun away from the female and swept aside the strike of the male who'd been sneaking up behind her, driving the heel of her left hand into his sternum. He flew backwards ten feet to slam into a wall.

The angel dropped to one knee to let the female demon's blow swing uselessly over her head and kicked the demon's legs out from under her, twisting to stab downwards. The demon rolled out of the way just in time but Amitiel's sword sliced through the meaty part of the demon's shoulder, severing muscles and tendons. With a scream, the demon slashed at Amitiel's face. Amitiel caught the demon's wrist and slammed her arm against the ground. Then she drove her sword through the demon's throat and twisted. The demon convulsed, orange light spilling from her mouth and eyes.

Amitiel was almost, but not quite, caught off guard when the male demon tried to tackle her. She flared her wings and pumped them down, sending herself straight up and over the demon's clumsy attack. She landed lightly on her feet and her blade flicked out, slicing across the back of the demon's neck, severing his spinal cord with one blow. He dropped instantly and did not rise again.

The angel took a breath to center herself and turned to the rest of the struggle, only to find that it was over. Castiel stood over the bodies of three more demons, his sapphire eyes fixed wide and unblinking on her face. She casually flicked the blood from the edges of her sword and slid it up the sleeve of her jacket. Then she looked up and met Castiel's gaze. He walked forward, stepping over bodies without looking down, until he stood directly in front of her. She had to crane her neck back to look at his face. She'd forgotten the disparity in their vessel's heights.

He still hadn't said a word, simply looking at her with wonder in his face. She offered him a tiny smile. He reached up and brushed his fingers across her cheek, a small frown chiseled between his brows. "How?" he finally asked, his voice rough.

Amitiel shrugged. "Luck," she guessed. "Fortune. Father? He brought you back. Perhaps he saved me. I am not sure. I don't really remember much."

Castiel pressed his palm to her cheek, a smile finally touching his lips. "I am glad you survived, sister."

Her own smile grew a little wider. "As am I." She sobered instantly. "I'm afraid I have bad news."

He dropped his hand, growing serious. "What is it?"

"An elimination team has been sent for you, and no doubt myself as well," Amitiel explained. "Shoftiel has already made an attempt to kill Claire Novak."

A shadow passed over his face and vanished, but his eyes remained dark. "And?" he growled.

"I protected her, have no fear," she assured him. "Claire and her mother are with Bobby and the Winchesters now. But it's not just heaven that is after you, Castiel. Hell has decided that you must be eliminated in order to gain access to the Winchesters."

He blinked. Frowned for a moment, and blinked again. Then he tilted his head and peered down at his sister for a moment. "That...is unfortunate," he finally declared.

Amitiel personally thought that was an understatement, but Castiel had always been like that. She nodded and put her hand on his arm. "I came to warn you. I need you to desist your search for Father until we can take care of this threat."

He shook his head. "No. We don't have enough time for me to stop looking."

A spasm of frustration passed over Amitiel's face. "Castiel, please don't be stubborn," she said. "You know what the eliminators are like. I only managed to fend Shoftiel off because he was alone and I was bluffing. You _cannot_ fight them by yourself."

"You will be with me," Castiel pointed out, but Amitiel shook her head.

"No. Both heaven and hell will try for Claire again. My duty is with her. As should yours be. She's just a _child_, brother. She _needs_ us to protect her." She tightened her grip on Castiel's arm. "If something happens to her, and you could have protected her, you will never be able to face Jimmy again," she said in a low voice.

Castiel scowled at her, but there was little anger in his eyes. "Who was sent with Shoftiel?"

"I don't know for sure," Amitiel replied, "But he usually works with Kadmiel, Haamiah, and Cephas."

His head came back, his scowl melting into surprise and concern. "Haamiah and Cephas?" he echoed. A series of emotions passed over his face, visible only by the infinitesimal twitching of his brows and lips. "I have seen them work before. They are...efficient."

"That is an overly kind assessment, I think," Amitiel replied bluntly. "They take entirely too much pleasure in their duties, Castiel, and you know what they will do to us if they think for a moment we are vulnerable. Please don't make me choose between you and Claire."

Amitiel lowered her defenses and let her concern, her worry, and her desperation flow over Castiel. She knew he couldn't resist her for long. He never could. It was dangerously close to manipulation, but he would forgive her...eventually.

He caved almost immediately, placing his hand over hers where it still rested on the sleeve of his black trench coat. "Very well," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "Let's go."

They reappeared in the kitchen of Bobby's kitchen a heartbeat later, wings folding back into place behind their shoulders, tawny-gold and silver-white. They could hear the house's occupants moving around, voices and footsteps and other various noises. Exchanging a glance, the two angels walked through the dining room into the living room. Sam was standing on a ladder, prying the molding from the ceiling and tossing the charred wood onto a tarp laid out on the floor.

Castiel looked around the room, noting the soot and water marks. "What happened?" he asked. Sam yelped and almost fell off the ladder, catching himself just in time but dropping his crowbar.

"Jesus!" he yelled.

Amitiel ignored him and told Castiel, "Demons set the house on fire in order to drive Mallory and the Novaks out."

Sam gingerly descended the ladder to retrieve his crowbar. "When did you two get here?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"Less than a minute ago," Castiel replied, looking around again. "Amitiel appraised me of the situation. Has there been any sign of the demons?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it's been quiet for the last day. We decided we might as well start cleaning the place up. Speaking of which," he gestured toward Amitiel. "You look better."

She straightened her jacket. The bloodstain on her shirt had vanished along with the rent in the fabric. "Thank you."

Sam nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. "Uh, right." He turned and stuck his head through the doorway to the study. "Hey, guys! The angels are here!"

There was the sound of running footsteps and Claire skidded into view, coming to a halt just inside the doorway. Her eyes flicked from Castiel to Amitiel and back again. She opened her mouth, clearly wanting to say something, but unsure as to what. Castiel broke the sudden silence.

"Claire. It is good to see you again. Are you well?" he asked, smiling faintly as he took a step toward her.

The girl licked her lips a little nervously. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. How—how're you?"

He stopped just short of arm's length. "I am well, thank you." Amelia appeared behind Claire and gasped faintly, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. Castiel's eyes darted upwards to meet hers. He was silent for a long moment, and then said, "Jimmy would like to speak with you both. I can allow him forward for a time, if you are willing."

"Yes, oh God, yes," Amelia breathed. Castiel nodded and briefly shut his eyes. He swayed slightly and took a stumbling step forward as his eyes flew open again.

"Claire?" he whispered. "Ames?"

"Daddy!" Claire squealed, throwing herself forward to wrap her arms around Jimmy's waist. Jimmy clung to his daughter in return, only freeing one arm when Amelia joined them.

Amitiel touched Sam's arm. "I think we should give them some privacy," she suggested softly. Sam nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yeah," he agreed. The Novaks didn't notice them as they slipped out of the room into the study. Sam closed the door behind them and Amitiel went to greet Bobby, who was laboring at a folding table over several waterlogged books.

"Amelia told us what happened," the former hunter said, setting his work aside. "But what's the deal with this angel...Shoftiel?"

Amitiel told him everything, starting over when Dean arrived to bring him up to speed. When she was done, the human men engaged in a silent conversation Amitiel could only have followed if she had looked inside their minds.

"Right," Dean finally said at length. "What do we have to do to get these guys off you and Cas' backs?"

"There is little we can do about the demons," Amitiel said with a shrug, a habit she'd picked up from Mallory. "Hell will send soldiers against us until the Apocalypse ends, one way or the other. We can take Claire and Amelia somewhere safe, somewhere the demons will never find them. Castiel and I can take care of ourselves. As for the angels," she lifted a shoulder and let it drop. "We destroy the elimination team. Shoftiel's is one of the most effective teams. If we can defeat them, Zachariah will hesitate to send another."

"And you're sure Zachariah is behind this?" Sam asked.

"He was the one who issued the execution order on Castiel and me," Amitiel replied. "And on the others who rebelled with me. He seems to have taken up the reigns in our Father's absence."

Dean rubbed his face with both hands. "Where do you plan on taking the Novaks?" he asked, sounding tired.

Amitiel glanced over her shoulder at the closed door separating them from the family. "I am not sure. Since my rebellion I have lost many of my allies. There are perhaps one or two I might be able to convince to help us." Her shoulders slumped. The last month had been extremely difficult. Contrary to what she was letting everyone believe, she hadn't immediately defeated Belial. The battle had, in fact, lasted for the better part of two weeks, and had ended in the depths of a nebula far from earth. She'd spent the next two weeks nursing her wounds, trying to regain enough strength to make the journey back to the planet.

A large hand enclosed her shoulder and she looked up. Sam was gazing down at her with a concerned look in his blue-hazel eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine." The words came automatically to her lips but she paused after they were spoken. "I'm tired," she admitted a moment later.

"Is there anything we can do?" Sam asked.

She smiled up at him, placing her tiny hand atop his. "No. But thank you, Sam. You've been a good friend." She took a deep breath as Sam nodded and let his hand drop. "In the meantime, we should attempt to rebuild the defenses on your home," she told Bobby. "We cannot afford the be vulnerable."

Dean groaned and dropped his head. "Great," he mumbled. "Back to work."

Bobby scowled and hit him over the head with a handy magazine.

XXXXXX

I am _so, so_ sorry for the delay in posting. This chapter was surprisingly difficult to churn out and I finally just had to kick myself in the rear and get it done. So here it is and the story is once more rolling smoothly. *phew* Oh, and hey! I'm on Twitter! Follow me leakypen. Let me know you're from FF and I'll post updates and extras about my stories.


	9. Chapter 9

Before they could adjourn, Crow loped into the study and headed straight for Amitiel. He thrust his head against her stomach, wagging his tail happily. Amitiel fondled his ears with a smile. Sam tilted his head curiously.

"He doesn't realize you're not Mallory," he said. "I thought animals were attuned to the supernatural."

"Oh, he knows I'm not Mallory," Amitiel replied, scratching the back of the big dog's neck. "But he likes me anyway."

Dean, who had edged out of range from further assault, stretched his back with a sigh. "Well, I'm gonna finish getting rid of the rest of the damaged siding," he said, not sounding particularly enthusiastic. "You know Sam, whenever you want to pitch in..."

"Hey, I was already working," Sam protested.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, in the lovely air conditioning. Come outside in the heat and do some real work."

"Both of you, shut up and get back to work," Bobby growled. He jerked his thumb towards the door. Dean shot Sam a dirty look and left, still grumbling. Sam eyed the closed door to the living room.

"I think they need some more time," Amitiel murmured, one hand still petting Crow.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We can start on the wallpaper in the hall." He blushed suddenly and began to stammer. "I mean, if you want to help, that is...you don't have to, but..."

Amitiel laughed and it occurred to Sam that it was the first time he'd heard the angel laugh. In fact, it was the first time that he'd heard any angel laugh with sincerity. Amitiel had a nice laugh, he decided. "Of course I'll help," she said, smiling up at him. "But you'll have to show me what to do. I've never attempted to repair a house before."

"Stripping the wallpaper isn't that hard," Sam told her as they left the study. "But putting it up is a bitch."

Crow followed them out, leaning his shoulder against Amitiel's thigh just as he would to Mallory. She kept a hand on his neck the whole time. Someone had removed his harness as it was now unnecessary. While Sam gathered the tools they would need, Amitiel carefully scanned the house, feeling for the wards that had been built, layer upon layer, in the two decades Bobby had been a hunter. Many of them had been obliterated, some were damaged, but others were still intact. They would not have to rebuild the wards from scratch.

"Ami?"

She turned to look at Sam, who put a bucket of water down next to a couple of wide-bladed tools and a few sponges. "Yes?"

"Could I talk to Mal for a few minutes?"

"Yes, of course," Amitiel said willingly. She let her eyes lose focus as she reached within her. Mallory had withdrawn during the battle with the demons and had not stirred or spoken since. _"Mallory? Child, __are you awake?"_

_Yeah, I'm here,_ the girl replied after a moment. _What is it?_

"_Sam wishes to speak with you. I am giving you control."_

The exchange was swift and practiced and Mallory emerged with no trouble at all. For a moment she stood blinking around at her, and then her face split into a huge grin. "Oh, my God," she whispered. Crow nudged her hand and she looked down. "Wow! Look at you! You are so beautiful!" She laughed as she scratched his ears, bending down to place a kiss on the top of his head. "Bobby never told me how good-looking you are!"

Sam chuckled and was entirely unprepared when Mallory slammed into him full-tilt, arms wrapping around his waist. "You would not believe how good it is to see you," she told him, her voice muffled against his chest. Sam hugged her back gently.

"Yeah, you too."

She pulled back, grinning up at him. "So, whatcha want to talk about?"

Her sunny expression made him falter for a moment, hesitating about his intended question. He asked anyway. "Are you okay?"

A frown abruptly clouded her face, the change so swift as to be startling, except Sam was used to Mallory's lightning-fast expressions. "Why wouldn't I be? Ami's alive, she's back, and I can _see_!"

"Yeah, I guess that's all good," Sam admitted. "But...I just wanted to make sure. It wasn't exactly the easiest few days for you."

The frown turned pensive. "Oh. Yeah. About that." Mallory thought for a few minutes. "No, I'm okay. It was scary as hell at the time, but definitely okay now."

"Good," Sam said, nodding. "Amelia told us everything. What you did...you were pretty amazing, you know that?"

The grin returned. "Thanks," she replied softly. For a moment they just stood there, the silence not uncomfortable. Then Mallory bent down and picked up one of the scrapers. "So, we gonna do this or what?"

XxxXxxX

Jimmy listened in shock and growing horror as Amelia and Claire recounted the events of the last few days. When they were done he shook his head, completely speechless. Claire stared up at him in concern.

"Dad, are you okay?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

"I can't," he started, but his voice faded away. "You were supposed to be safe," he finally whispered. "He _promised_ you'd be safe! I would never have left if I thought—"

Amelia put both hands on his arm. "Jimmy, it's okay," she said quietly. "Everything worked out for the best. Please don't blame yourself."

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said brokenly. "None of this was supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to be like this."

Amelia let go of his arm and wrapped her arms around his neck again. "I'm sorry, too," she told him gently. "I'm so sorry I didn't believe you. That I pushed you away." She released him enough to look him in the face. "But Mallory told us everything, Jimmy. The Apocalypse," she shook her head. "This is big. Bigger than all of us. And I get it now. They need you and they need Castiel if we're gonna get through this. Because we are, you know. Gonna get through this."

She offered him a tired smile and he was able to return it after some effort. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said. Her smile grew a little warmer.

"I believe that was why you married me," she told him, giving him a light kiss. Claire wrinkled her nose and looked pointedly away, drawing a chuckle form both her parents.

"How...how have you been doing?" Amelia asked hesitantly. Jimmy sighed heavily.

"I'm asleep most of the time. I don't wake up unless Castiel is under a great deal of stress. I think he does it to protect me, but it's a little annoying to wake up and be completely out of the loop." He shrugged. "But maybe it's for the best. I mean, I'm not a lot of help on my own."

Amelia squeezed his arm. "I'm so glad you're here, now," she said softly. "It's so hard, not knowing when we're going to see you next."

He pulled her close again and pressed another kiss to her temple. "I know," he murmured. "Believe me, I know." He looked down at Claire with a sudden grin. "So what's this about you getting driving lessons early?"

XxxXxxX

Everyone pitched in to help with the renovations. Castiel and Amitiel remained withdrawn, except for a few hours while the angels worked on the wards. They were able to rebuild them stronger than before, though it would take a few days to fully complete them. Jimmy volunteered to make dinner and closeted himself and Claire in the kitchen for what felt like forever before emerging with bowls of fettuccine alfredo and garlic bread.

At the first bite, Dean's eyes bugged out of his head. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed, staring down at his plate with a look akin to awe. "This is good!"

Jimmy smiled wryly. "So glad to have passed muster," he said.

"No, I mean really," Dean went on. "You never said you could cook!"

"That's on the list of requirements to be an angel vessel," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "Genetic trait, check. Cooking ability, check."

"Oh, well then I flunked," Mallory piped up. "Grilled cheese sandwiches, that's my repertoire."

"I can't cook, either," Claire admitted. "I just chop up stuff."

"Well, we're gonna have to get you in the kitchen more often," Sam told Jimmy. "A continuous diet of restaurant food gets old really quick."

"If I can find time somewhere in all the Apocalypse, I will make you dinner," Jimmy promised, highly amused.

"Mmrhmfmble," Dean said happily. He finally swallowed. "Pass the garlic bread."

When the lights overhead flickered, everyone except Bobby lunged to their feet, chairs tumbling over. Three guns were in hand before the next flicker and by the one after that two swords had joined the armory. The two angels glanced at each other, silent questions asked and answered as fast as thought.

"I don't sense the presence of demons," Castiel said, a tiny frown on his face.

"Crow's still quiet," Dean observed, eying the dog who was standing by the door, head tilted inquiringly.

"Goddammit!" Bobby suddenly burst out. All eyes turned to him. He looked sheepish behind his beard. "Fire damaged a lot of the wiring through this part of the house. Haven't gotten around to fixing it, yet." Everyone continued to stare at Bobby. Then Claire giggled behind her hand. Sam huffed indignantly and shook his head and Ami surprised them all by laughing suddenly.

Then the lights went out.

"Remain where you are!" Castiel ordered into the darkness. There was a whisper of movement and then a flashlight clicked on. Amitiel handed it to Sam, who used it to find a couple more.

"Amelia, Claire, get to the panic room," Dean ordered, thumbing the safety off his pistol. "No matter what you hear, don't open up until one of us tells you to. Go!"

They hurried off towards the stairs as the others spread out. Bobby rolled over to the front window that still had glass and peered out. "Don't see nothing," he muttered.

"Something's wrong," Amitiel murmured, her gray eyes hooded.

"Yeah, I think we got that," Dean replied dryly as he checked the back door in the kitchen.

"No," Amitiel said irritably. "Something's _wrong_. Castiel, do you feel that?"

The male angel stopped, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Yes..." he said at length, his eyes narrowing.

"What is it?" Sam demanded, looking from one angel to the other.

"Nothing," Castiel replied. "There's...nothing. Something is blocking our senses."

Dean swallowed nervously. "Uh...so what's strong enough to do that?"

Before the angels could reply, a flash of lightening lit up the world with eerie, blue-white light, followed by a crash of thunder that made the house tremble. The humans flinched involuntarily, the angels dropping into defensive poses, swords at the ready.

Lightening struck again, and the flashlight bulbs burst in a series of loud pops, leaving them in absolute darkness as thunder boomed out around them. Dean's breath came quick and shallow, his heart pounding in his ears. He lowered his gun, unsure of the others' positions and unwilling to risk shooting them.

For a third time, lightening flickered across the sky and for a brief second Dean could see his friends gathered in the living room, four figures standing rock-still. Wait..._four?_ The lightning was gone before Dean could react. The thunder almost drowned out Sam's curse and the thump of a body impacting the wall. Steel rang on steel and Amitiel yelled something in Enochian.

"Sam!" Dean called, straining his eyes to see through the murk. "C'mon, Sam!"

When the lightening hit again, it revealed Sam on the floor across the room, Castiel kneeling over him. The stranger stood over them both, the down stroke of his sword caught on Castiel's blade. Just to the right, Amitiel faced off with a taller woman, blades flickering in the bluish light.

In the darkness that followed, Castiel barked out a command and a gold-green light flared into existence. Dean couldn't see the source of the light, and it guttered wildly, as if struggling to remain alive. But it was enough to be able to see the attackers. Dean sighted down his pistol and plugged two bullets into the back of the male stranger. He didn't even flinch.

Castiel regained his feet, pushing his opponent back away from Sam, who was groggily propping himself up on one elbow. The sound of impacting swords filled the room, interspersed with quiet grunts. Dean shoved the pistol in the back of his belt and hurried to his brother's side, hauling Sam up into a sitting position.

"What—?" Sam mumbled.

"Angels, dude," Dean informed him tersely. "Holy oil. Let's go."

Ignored by the struggling angels, the brothers ran from the room. Bobby had taken up a post outside the door to the basement stairs, a shotgun held across his chest. Dean threw open the supply closet and grabbed the stone jar on the second shelf, shoving it at Sam while he grabbed another.

When they returned to the living room, the light had grown weaker and was barely enough to make out the two pairs of angels. Dean hadn't noticed it before, but the shadows flickering around the walls all had vast wings sprouting from shoulders, making the shapes dizzying and confusing.

Amitiel was backed into the corner, blood dripping down her face. The edge of her sword was stained crimson, but her opponent didn't seem badly injured. Castiel was hard-pressed as well, fists coming into play as often as blades.

Dean barely hesitated before wading in. Uncorking the jar, he heaved the contents over Castiel's attacker as hard as he could, holy oil splattering all over the strange angel. Behind him, he heard more splashing as Sam similarly soaked Amitiel's opponent.

The male angel whirled around, sword darting out faster than a striking snake. A line of fire scoured along Dean's ribs as he jumped backwards with a curse. Fumbling for his pocket, he managed to retrieve the lighter and flick it on, flinging it at the angel's face.

Fire blossomed over his body, consuming the blessed oil coating his skin and clothes. With a terrible scream, the angel vanished, accompanied by the smell of scorched flesh. The female angel snarled in anger, abandoning Amitiel to grab Dean by the front of his shirt and slam him against the wall. She drove her sword towards his chest, only to have Amitiel grab her long, unbound hair and yank her head back, forcing her to stumble backwards. Spinning around, the angel flung her sword arm out towards Amitiel's abdomen. Ami jumped backwards, the tip of the sword still slicing through her shirt.

"Hey, bitch!" Sam called. The angel jerked her head in his direction. Sam flung a lighter at her and she shrieked as she burst into flames. Amitiel let out a cry of pain and fell backwards, fire crawling up her arm. Castiel lunged toward his sister, shrugging out of his trench coat as he did. He flung the coat over her arm to smother the fire and slapped them out, hissing in annoyance as the flames licked his fingers.

The lights flickered back on and the eerie glow vanished. For a moment no one moved, staring around at each other with wide eyes. Then Sam knelt on Amitiel's other side, tugging her shirt aside to examine the gash along her stomach. "Are you okay?" he demanded.

"I'll be fine," she panted. "The sword wounds are not deep. Ah!" She interrupted herself with another pained cry as Castiel removed his coat from her arm. The skin from her elbow to shoulder was blistered red and black, weeping clear fluid and oozing blood.

"Aw, shit," Sam muttered. He looked up at Dean.

"First aid, got it," Dean replied before Sam had to ask, and darted off to get the supplies and tell Bobby the danger was over.


	10. Chapter 10

Amitiel held herself in stoic silence as Sam bandaged her arm, but he could tell by the tension in her neck and jaw that she was in pain. "I'm sorry," he said uselessly, again.

"It wasn't your fault," she said through clenched teeth. "You and Dean did well to get rid of them."

Dean was pacing back and forth across the kitchen, eyes flicking occasionally at the wounded angel. Castiel leaned against the counter, eyes distant. Bobby and Amelia were off to the side. Claire had been sent to bed, but Amitiel knew the girl had sneaked back down and was hiding in the living room in order to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Who the hell were those guys?" Dean demanded, coming to a sudden stop and flinging his arm out towards Castiel. He winced as the movement pulled at the wound along his side. "Were they on the hit squad sent after you?"

"Yes," Castiel said, his jaw working. "Cephas and Haamiah. They are well-known among our brethren for being...skilled...at what they do."

"They are cruel," Amitiel spat angrily. "Cruel and petty. They _enjoy_ the kill. Worse, they are _inventive_. They rarely make a quick kill. They draw it out for hours, days. They are Zachariah's most dangerous tools." She flinched when Sam pulled the gauze too tight and grimaced. "I do not like them," she finished.

Dean stared at her, eyebrows raised. "No kidding," he said.

Castiel stirred, his eyes snapping to the present. "Many of us were surprised when they didn't follow Lucifer," he added unnecessarily. "Their...tastes certainly ran in that direction."

"You're just filling us with confidence," Bobby said dryly. Castiel blinked and tilted his head, obviously trying to figure out whether or not to take the retired hunter at face value.

Sam finally finished tending to Amitiel's arm and she shrugged back into her shirt, testing the arm warily. Movement was restricted, and it was her right arm, but she was more than capable of using her sword with her left hand. "Thank you," she told Sam. He gave her a wane, sickly smile and began packing away the first aid supplies.

_Are you going to be okay?_ Mallory asked quietly from within.

"_I will be fine,"_ Amitiel assured her. _"The injury should heal in a matter of days."_

_At this rate, I'm gonna have a nice little collection of scars, aren't I?_ The girl's tone was dry, her thoughts shrouded.

Amitiel frowned. _"If the scars bother you, I will attempt to heal them,"_ she offered.

_It's no big deal,_ Mallory replied flatly. _Save your strength for more important things._

The angel looked down at her arms. She could see the beginnings of thick scars on each of her wrists that ran lengthwise under her sleeves. One was a reminder of the release of an old enemy, the other evidence of Mallory's dependance on Amitiel.

She was briefly distracted when Crow whined softly and put his head on her knee, gazing up at her with soulful, brown eyes. Amitiel placed her hand on top of the dog's head, rubbing gently at his soft fur. He'd gone down with Claire and Amelia to the panic room. Amitiel didn't want him getting hurt again trying to attack an angel. Healing him once had taken enough out of her.

"So what's our next move?" Sam asked quietly, leaning forward in his chair. He had his elbows propped on his knees, big hands dangling limply.

Castiel and Amitiel exchanged a quick glance. "You should contact her," Castiel said. "She may still be willing to help, even after all these years."

"Contact who?" Dean asked, looking between them.

"She may not be willing to leave her family," Amitiel replied, shaking her head. "Not so soon after the birth of her second granddaughter. And her youngest daughter is not yet an adult."

"Who are you talking about?" Dean cut in again.

Castiel lifted his hands in a pseudo shrug. "None of our other allies will help us, not after our rebellion," he pointed out. "She never cared for the politics of heaven and hell."

"Hey!" Dean said sharply, waving his hand in front of Castiel's face. The angel blinked at him in mild surprise. "Stop ignoring me. Who the hell are you guys talking about?"

"An old friend of ours," Castiel replied. "Kara Oskmey. One of the very few people who can hold their own against an angel."

"Sounds like she might be a good ally," Bobby put in, scratching at his beard.

"If Kara is willing to help, she can take Amelia and Claire with her, to keep them safe," Amitiel said. She looked over at Amelia. "If you are willing, of course."

Amelia jerked her head down, once. "Whatever it takes to protect my daughter," she said softly.

Castiel suddenly shivered, his normally ramrod-straight posture softening. His face became warmer, more vulnerable. Jimmy walked over to his wife and slid his arm around her waist, drawing her to his side and whispering something in her ear. Amelia nodded and leaned against her husband, allowing him to place a light kiss against her temple.

Amitiel watched them with an unreadable expression. Before Mallory had become her vessel, she had given little thought to her host other than a tool to be used. She always left them exactly how she had arrived, of course, and returned them to their home after she was finished with them, but she had never attempted to form a relationship with them. Mallory had changed all of that. And she was happier for it. She was glad her brother was following her example, allowing Jimmy to be with his family. The future was so uncertain. There was no telling the next time Jimmy would see his wife and daughter, or at all. With Shoftiel's squad after them, death for both angel and host was now a reality they had to consider.

She startled slightly when Mallory abruptly poked her. _Stop it,_ the girl said irritably.

"_Stop what?"_ Amitiel asked in confusion.

_Being all morbid. It's not helping anyone. We're not dying, Cas isn't dying, no one's dying. Got it? We're getting through this. _All_ of us._

Amitiel smiled faintly. _"All you have suffered and still you manage to find hope."_

_Yeah, well it's a gift,_ Mallory replied dryly.

Amitiel shook herself free from her dark thoughts and brought herself to the present, only to find everyone looking expectantly at her. She looked around in confusion. "Yes?" she asked.

"I said," Bobby repeated, "How soon can we expect this Kara person?"

"If she will help us, within a day," Amitiel replied, getting back on track. She got to her feet carefully so as not to exacerbate the wound across her stomach. "I'll need a few items for the summoning spell," she told Bobby. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Take whatever you need."

Sam stood as well, easily towering over Amitiel's petite vessel. "You need any help?" he offered.

"Yes, actually," Amitiel said. "If you don't mind."

"My pleasure," Sam assured her.

They moved the folding table out of the study and Amitiel began marking the floor with charcoal, inscribing several concentric circles of runes. Sam crouched to get a better look at them. "These look Germanic," he commented.

"They are," she replied. She looked up suddenly. "We'll need an offering to make the summoning work. It should be mead, traditionally, but beer will work, I suppose. Bread, and honey. I'll also need horsehair, cold iron—preferably a nail—and mistletoe."

"Got it," Sam said, getting back to his feet. He had to search through Bobby's spell supplies for about a quarter hour before he found everything Amitiel needed. When he returned to the study, she was kneeling in the middle of the circles, her sword in one hand. At her instructions, Sam poured the beer out into a bowl and added the honey and bread. Amitiel drew the edge of her sword along her palm, letting a few drops of blood fall into the mixture.

She placed the bowl in front of her knees, tied the nail to the sprig of mistletoe with the horsehair, and dipped it into the beer mixture. She flicked droplets of moisture from the twig over the circle, muttering under her breath as she did. Sam watched, mentally taking notes on the procedure. Amitiel's chant grew faster until she barked out the final few words and cast the mistletoe to the floor. The room was filled with the sound of wind and galloping horses, and then silence. Amitiel got to her feet, wiping her charcoal-smeared fingers onto her jeans.

"That's it?" Sam asked. The angel nodded.

"Yes. If Kara will come, then she should arrive by this time tomorrow."

XxxXxxX

Most of them took advantage of the quiet night to catch up on badly-needed sleep. Castiel had again withdrawn, giving Jimmy more time with his family. With the Novaks taking up the guest bedrooms, Sam and Dean were forced to kip on a couple of cots in the living room. Dean had muttered something about replacing the couches asap but fell asleep almost as soon as he lay down, not even bothering to undress.

Amitiel remained awake to stand watch. It had been Castiel's condition before giving Jimmy control. She stood by the window in the study, gazing out onto the starlit scrapyard. Crow lay at her feet, snuffling quietly in his sleep. Within the angel's mind, Mallory dreamed. Amitiel touched the girl's thoughts briefly. The dream was innocuous, some abstract mishmash of images that made no sense in the waking mind.

She took a slow, deep breath. Dean had insisted she take several pain tablets for her arm and the drugs made the edges of her thoughts fuzzy and indistinct, but it did lessen the discomfort from the burns. The wounds would take longer to heal than normal ones. She stretched her arm experimentally, feeling the pull of damaged skin.

Amitiel lowered her arm and stretched out her senses toward the wards. They weren't finished, but they were unmolested. The night was quiet. She hoped it would remain so. The humans within the house deserved their rest.

It was only because she was monitoring the wards that she noticed the arrival of the newcomer, so subtle was the other's presence. Amitiel stiffened, her eyes returning to the window. Standing in the middle of the gravel drive, a shadowy figure waited, silver moonlight glinting on skin, hair, and eyes.

Crow's head came up, a growl rumbling in his chest. Amitiel reached down to place a hand on his head to calm him. Then she shifted out to the porch. The wood planks were rough beneath her bare feet, but she didn't feel any discomfort as she stepped out onto the rocky ground. Walking slowly, she approached the waiting figure until she stood a wing's length away from the other.

It was a woman, significantly taller than Amitiel. Her skin was dark and smooth, her age falling somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five. Her abundant hair was pulled back from her face but fell in a wild mass below her shoulders. She wore a wine-colored silk blouse under a brown leather jacket. Her khaki pants hugged the muscular curves of her legs and were tucked into calf-high boots. Almond-shaped eyes studied Amitiel from dark depths, full lips pursed slightly.

"Hello, Kadmiel," Amitiel said softly.

"Hello, sister," the woman replied, equally quietly. She tilted her head slightly to the left. "It is good to see you again."

"You as well," Amitiel acknowledged with a slight nod. For a moment both women were silent.

"I have come alone," Kadmiel finally said. "The others are not with me."

"Why are you here?" Amitiel challenged, lifting her chin. Compared to Kadmiel's poise, Amitiel appeared worn and scruffy, barefoot and wearing one of Sam's flannel shirts. Her hair was frizzy and mussed, hanging across her shadowed eyes. Her jeans were stained and torn, splattered with paint and wallpaper glue. But appearances meant little to the angels.

"You know why I am here," Kadmiel said gently. "I wanted to give you a chance to do the right thing, sister. Turn over the human child and give yourself up. Submit to heaven's authority and be redeemed."

"Redemption by execution," Amitiel shot back.

"That is the punishment for rebellion," Kadmiel returned, unfazed. "But you can earn forgiveness, sister. Is it not better to die cleansed of your transgressions than struck down in battle against your own brethren?"

"And Castiel?" Amitiel asked, her eyes flashing. "Is he to be offered forgiveness as well?"

Kadmiel's lips thinned for a moment. "His actions cannot be overlooked. I'm afraid he is beyond forgiveness."

"And why is that?" Amitiel demanded.

"He stole the Michael Sword from custody, challenged the authority of Raphael, incited rebellion among his brethren, assaulted and entrapped an archangel, and again stole the Michael Sword from custody."

"His _name_ is Dean," Amitiel growled. Kadmiel blinked at her, nonplussed. "The Michael Sword," Amitiel went on. "His name is Dean Winchester."

Kadmiel shook her head. "It is easier if you do not think of them as individuals," she said calmly.

It was Amitiel's turn to press her lips together. "No," she said quietly. Kadmiel tilted her head to right, her eyebrow quirked inquiringly.

"No?" she echoed.

"No," Amitiel repeated. "I will not give you Claire. I will not turn myself in. I will not seek _redemption_," she spat the word, "at the hands of those who wish to destroy our Father's creations." Her chin lifted again and her shoulders squared. "You are my sister, Kadmiel, and I love you, but lift your hand against those in this house and I will kill you."

Kadmiel lowered her head, her expression sad. "I am sorry it has come to this, Amitiel. Very well. You have made your decision." She turned to leave.

"Kadmiel!" Amitiel called after her. The other angel stopped and looked back over her shoulder at Ami. "In your heart, do you believe you are doing the right thing?"

"Of course," Kadmiel replied without hesitating.

"So do I," Amitiel said. She took a deep breath. "Goodbye, my sister."

For a heartbeat, Kadmiel seemed to hesitate, but then she spread chestnut wings and vanished, leaving Amitiel standing alone in front of the quiet house. Amitiel took another deep breath and reached out again to her non-physical senses. There was no sign of any presence, angel or demon, anywhere near the house. She tilted her head back until she could look up at the stars twinkling overhead.

They looked so small, distant and weak. She remembered when they had first been spoken into existence, how she and her brothers and sisters had danced among them. But that had been so long ago, before the First War and the fall of the Morning Star. She shivered slightly.

_Father...I don't want to fight my brethren, but I don't know what else to do. _Amitiel closed her eyes. _Please. I need guidance._ But she received no answer. Trying to ignore her sinking heart, she transported herself back into the study, where Crow jumped to his feet eagerly to greet her. The dog remained at her side as she made her way silently into the living room.

The brothers were both deep asleep, Sam spilling over the too-short cot and Dean curled up in a sight a ball as he could manage. The moonlight softened their features, gilding them with silver. Amitiel stared down at them for a moment. Stooping she brushed her fingers along Sam's forehead.

"I gave up everything for you," she told the boys softly. "I have killed for you. Betrayed my brothers and sisters. Do not make me a fool."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hi. You guys may remember me. I'm the author of this story?

*crickets*

Or not...Look, I'm really sorry about the delay, but college has a way of interfering with your life like you would not believe. I'm in the middle of midterms and I believe I lost my sanity in the same place my time, social life, and favorite pair of socks disappeared to. But my muse and plot bunnies, with Mal and Ami's help, staged an intervention and this chapter is a result. Please read & review.

XXXXXX

When Sam woke up the next morning, he groaned as his muscles instantly reminded him that the cot he'd been sleeping on was entirely too short. He rolled off the cot onto the floor, taking the blankets with him. For a long moment he remained on the floor, tangled in the blankets, his face buried in his arms. Dean was snoring a few feet away.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

He jerked his head up, blinking groggily at a pair of bare feet standing in the doorway. Rolling over onto his side, he traced his gaze from the feet up to see Mallory staring down at him. He had spent enough time around the young woman to differentiate between angel and host, even when he was only half-conscious.

"What?" he asked thickly.

"You aren't a morning person, are you?" Mal guessed, her expression changing to amused.

"Sometimes," Sam replied, rubbing his hand over his face. He looked back up at Mallory. Her hair was wet and braided into pigtails. For the first time in a long time, there was a tinge of color in her cheeks, taking away the unhealthy pallor she seemed to perpetually struggle with. She had changed out of her work clothes but it took Sam a moment to realize she'd stolen another one of his flannel button-ups. She'd had to roll the sleeves up just to reach her wrists and had tied it across her stomach over her t-shirt. Sam's sleep-addled mind observed that she looked rather cute, in a girl-next-door kind of way.

"I made coffee," she offered. He instantly perked up. It took him a moment to untangle himself from the sheets and he found himself grateful he'd decided to sleep in a pair of sweatpants despite the summer temperatures. She handed him a steaming mug when he padded into the kitchen and Sam took his first swallow black before looking around for milk and sugar.

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked once the caffeine had gotten a chance to kick in.

Mal nodded. "Yeah, I did. Ami was up all night, though. She was working on the wards most of it."

"She taking a break?" Sam asked, gesturing towards Mal's head. She shrugged.

"Nah, she's awake. Just said that I might as well get as much time active now before things start heating up. She's cool like that."

Sam frowned. "I wonder when it _is_ going to start heating up. I mean, not that I haven't appreciated the last few days, but it's starting to get a little _too_ quiet."

"I get what you mean," Mallory agreed. "Yeah, so Haamiah and Cephas showed up last night, but was I the only one who thought they gave up kinda easily? Angels operating at full power would have no problem shrugging off the holy oil after a couple of hours. It's only because Ami's cut off that we have to put up with this." She pointed at her right bicep.

"Speaking of which, how does it feel?" Sam asked, putting his mug down. "You mind if I take a look at it?"

Mallory shrugged out of the flannel shirt (Sam wondered how she could stand to wear it in the heat) revealing a black tank-top with a stylized owl printed in yellow. The gauze around the burns was messy and haphazard. "I tried to re-wrap it after taking a shower," she admitted. "It didn't work out so well."

Sam gently unwrapped the layers to reveal the injury. Most of the swelling had gone down but it was still inflamed, blistered, and in some areas blackened. "Does it hurt?" he asked, reaching for the first aid supplies still on the kitchen table.

"Some," Mallory replied, craning her neck so she could watch him apply more antiseptic cream. "Not as much as I expected. Amitiel's probably taking the edge off and she took a killer dose of Vicodin. And I mean that literally."

Sam snorted. "Yeah well, we figured out last time with Cas that angels have to take a lot more before it actually kicks in. You'll be fine."

"Good to hear," Mal replied dryly. Sam got some clean gauze and began re-wrapping her arm. She lifted it to allow him better access and only winced once when the gauze brushed against a particularly raw patch of skin.

"It's gonna scar," Sam warned. "Ami might not be able to completely take care of it."

She shrugged her other shoulder. "It's no big. Won't be the first I got because of her, probably won't be the last."

Sam was quiet as he finished, securing the end of the bandage and stepping back. "I would like to know what you were like before you accepted Amitiel," he said abruptly. "So I could see how much she's changed you."

Mallory looked away, testing her right arm and shoulder as she reached for her coffee with the left. "I can tell you one thing she's done for me," she said softly. Her gray eyes darted up to meet Sam's hazel-blue gaze. "I'm not afraid anymore."

Dean shuffled in at that point, clad only in a pair of jeans. He walked straight past Sam and Mal, not acknowledging either of them as he made his way toward the coffee pot. He downed his first mug in three swallows despite the temperature and filled the mug up again. Then he finally realized he wasn't alone.

Sam rolled his eyes and Mal quirked an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as she looked Dean up and down. The older Winchester brother's hair stuck up in all directions and there was an imprint of his sheets on his cheek.

"Nice," she said with a smirk. Picking up the shirt she had borrowed, she looked over at Sam. "Ami wants to make the rounds, check the wards and stuff. We should be done in an hour or so."

"Got it," he replied, lifting his mug in acknowledgment. Mal pulled the shirt on, tied it across her stomach, and then vanished into thin air with the sound of disturbed feathers. Dean blinked blankly at the place where she'd been.

"Too early for this crap," he muttered, and took another gulp of coffee. Sam snorted at his brother and went to claim the shower before the rest of the household woke up.

XxxXxxX

Dean had finished the outer siding and was helping Sam replace the drywall in the study. Amelia and Bobby were working on restoring what remained of Bobby's book collection. Jimmy, Claire, and Mallory were cleaning the floors in the living room, scrubbing, sanding, and re-finishing the wooden planks. At first, no one noticed the doorbell. It wasn't until Crow padded into the living room from the kitchen and barked once that anyone even looked up.

A sharp knock sounded against the front door. Jimmy and Mallory shared a look, both of them questioning the angels they carried within. They both shrugged at the same time and Amitiel got to her feet, swiping her bangs out of her eyes and padding down the hall. She could sense Castiel's presence behind her, and Claire behind him.

When she reached the front door, Amitiel extended her senses to the other side of the door. With a small smile, she unlocked the door and opened it, tilting her head back to look up at the person waiting on the other side. "Hello, Kara," she greeted warmly.

Kara was easily six feet tall with wavy, honey-colored hair and sky-blue eyes set in a handsome face. She was dressed entirely in black leather. Her bodice had only one strap over her right shoulder, revealing the sunburst tattoo on her left. Fingerless gloves covered both hands and she had bracers over each forearm, laces criscrossing over her biceps. Her pants laced up the outside of each thigh, showing strips of milky skin. A sheathed broadsword was slung across her back and a bronze torque rested against her collarbone.

The woman broke out into a wide smile at the sight of the angel in front of her. "Amitiel! Look at how small you are in your new body!" she exclaimed. Her accent was vaguely Germanic but much more musical. She patted Amitiel on the top of her head. "See? So tiny. I could fit you in my pocket!"

Attracted by the sound of voices, Dean and Sam came to investigate and were just in time to see Kara stoop to drop a chaste kiss on Amitiel's mouth before stepping past the angel into the house. "Ah, Castiel! My friend, it is good to see you!" Clapping him on the shoulder, Kara placed an identical kiss on Castiel.

The humans stared in shock but neither angel reacted negatively. "We are grateful you came, Kara," Castiel said gravely. "Given the circumstances, we would have understood if you had not."

Kara waved a hand dismissively. "After what you did for my family? How could I turn you away? Now come, introduce me to these humans of yours."

Amitiel closed and re-locked the door as Castiel gestured behind him. "This is Claire Novak, my vessel's daughter," he began. "And this is Dean and Sam Winchester."

Kara grinned at Sam. "You're a tall bastard, aren't you? It's not often I have to look up at a man. I like that." Her gaze turned shrewd as she eyed Dean. "Heaven's chosen, eh? Well, they've chosen worse in the past. I suppose you will do."

Dean sputtered while Sam found himself chuckling. "I'm sorry," Dean finally managed. "Who the hell are you?"

"I am Kara Oskmey," she announced proudly. "Rider of Valhalla, daughter of Odin."

When Dean only stared blankly, Amitiel explained, "She's a Valkyrie, Dean."

"A...what?" Dean said ingeniously. "Valkyries are real?" He frowned suddenly. "How come we've never heard of them before?"

"Probably because we never leave Germany," Kara replied dryly. "Well, almost never." She bounced a couple of times on the toes of her heavy boots. "So, I hear you have an Apocalypse on your hands, yes?"

"Something like that," Amitiel said with a twisted smile. "What are you hearing from your end?"

The Valkyrie shrugged fluidly. "My sisters and I lost interest in Ragnarok centuries ago. Basically we are keeping our heads down and hoping to ride it out." She fondled the strap of her sword sheath. "Though perhaps I wouldn't mind taking a more...active interest in the proceedings." She grinned again. "Which is why I am here. Tell me, what do you need me to do?"

"We'll tell you everything," Amitiel promised. "Come in, please." She beckoned for the Valkyrie to follow her and made her way to the kitchen. Kara looked around at the various half-finished renovation projects.

"Having a little trouble?" she asked curiously.

"Demons," Castiel replied.

"Ah." Kara accepted the bottle of beer Amitiel fetched for her from the fridge and made a face when she tried it. "Eurgh. This modern stuff is terrible!"

Bobby and Amelia were called in and introduced before they began the strategy meeting, passing more beer around and pulling nearly all the available chairs into the kitchen. Kara stretched her long legs out in front of her, arms crossed over her ample chest as she listened intently to the long, rambling story Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Amitiel spun for her to bring her up to speed. When the bounty on Claire's head was mentioned, a dark look spasmed across her face and she bared her teeth in a snarl.

"It is well you called me," she said, her eyes flashing. "I would give much to meet these brothers of yours, Castiel, who tried to kill your daughter."

"Claire's not his daughter," Amelia said quickly. "She's _Jimmy's_ daughter."

Kara waved her hand dismissively. "I meant not the one who fathered her, dame. Castiel's mark is on the child. He has taken responsibility for her life. In the eyes of my people, that makes her his."

"I was hoping you would see it that way," Castiel said softly. "Kara, we need you to protect Amelia and Claire. They will be pursued by both heaven and hell and they need someone who can fight for them. Protect my vessel's family as I protected yours and your debt will be cleared."

Kara shook her head. "No, Castiel. What you did for my sisters can not be repaid with just one act. I will do this for you, and more beside. Anything you need, you have only to ask and we will give it." Getting to her feet, she tilted her head thoughtfully. "If I am to protect the women, though, we must leave immediately. There is a place in the Northeast of this country that is friendly toward my family."

All eyes now turned to Amelia. She nodded silently and turned to leave. Castiel pushed away from the counter and followed her out of the kitchen. Kara watched them curiously but said nothing. Amitiel ran her fingers through her hair, the first time Sam remembered seeing her make any such gesture. She mumbled something under her breath in Enochian and Kara laughed dryly.

XxxXxxX

Jimmy did not reappear after Amelia and Claire left with Kara. Instead, Castiel and Amitiel disappeared somewhere together for several, leaving the Bobby, Sam, and Dean guessing as to what they were doing. Dean was starting to get antsy. They'd been camped out at Bobby's place for a few days now, and the Apocalypse was looming ever larger over their heads. He felt that they needed to be out there stopping it rather than playing home makeover. Sam was inclined to agree, but had better self-control about making his opinion known.

"This sucks, man," Dean grumbled..._again_. Sam sighed faintly and counted to twelve. Ten wasn't cutting it anymore.

"I heard you the first seventeen times, Dean," he said at length, keeping his voice even. "Once Cas and Ami get things figured out, we can go back to completely screwing the Apocalypse up."

Dean gave him a strange look. "Wow. Aren't you just a freaking ray of sunshine. What crawled up your ass and died?"

Sam glared in reply and went back to the book he was studying. It was one of the few that had survived unharmed and was filled with end-of-days prophecies. Sam had been working on translating it from Latin for the last few weeks.

Dean took another pull at his beer and tapped his fingers against the bottle restlessly. "What is taking them so long?" he burst out. "What's there to talk about? We track down the angel hit squad, we gank 'em, end of story."

"Dean, in case your multiple head injuries have finally resulted in brain damage," Sam said, setting his book down with a thump, "Every time we go up against angels, we get our asses handed to us. So I think maybe we might want to exercise some caution in going up against the elimination squad, okay?"

His brother blinked at him. "Okay, seriously, Sam. What's with the bitchfit?"

"Nothing," Sam mumbled, getting up to get a beer of his own.

"Uh-uh. I don't think so. _I'm_ the strong, silent one. _You're_ the one that likes to to hug and talk about feelings and that crap." Dean got to his feet to confront Sam, arms folded across his chest. "Spill, Bigfoot." The three-inch height difference didn't make a difference in Dean's intimidating glare. He'd put up with having his little brother loom over him since the kid was sixteen and shot up nine inches over one summer.

Sam shook his head, bringing his beer up to his mouth. "Not this time, Dean."

Dean's glare darkened and he debated whether or not to press the issue. Sam was just so damn touchy these days. While it used to only take the right look to get Sam to spill his guts, now Dean had to draw it out of him. But maybe Sam was right. Maybe it wasn't the time to be worrying about these kinds of things. "Fine," he said at length. He then stuck his finger in Sam's face. "But we're talking about this later, got it?"

Sam batted Dean's hand away from his nose with an annoyed expression. "Whatever."

Dean grabbed his beer, finished it one gulp, and tossed it at the garbage can. "I'm gonna see if I can find our resident wing buddies and tell them to get a move on."

"Uh-huh, good luck with that," Sam said, rolling his eyes. Dean made a rude gesture and swaggered out of the kitchen. Amitiel had developed a strange fondness for the tiny pond out back. That was the first place he was gonna check.

He'd just reached the front door when a clap of thunder roared out of the clear, blue sky, shaking the house down to its foundations. It was accompanied by a bright flash of light that streamed through the windows, smacking Dean square in the face. Reeling from surprise, his ears ringing and colored spots flashing across his vision, Dean stumbled away from the door, reaching up to touch the line of warmth trickling from his ear. His fingers came away bloody.

Above the church bells clanging in his head, Dean heard Sam cry out. He whirled around and lunged back toward the kitchen, skidding to a halt in the doorway. There was a man in the kitchen, one arm looped around Sam's neck, holding Dean's brother tightly against his chest. Dean recognized him from the attack a last night.

Cephas.

The angel's vessel was an inch or two shorter than Dean, so Sam's back was bowed awkwardly by the hold, face slowly turning red as the angel's grip tightened. Cephas had short, inky hair and milky skin. His eyes were so dark as to be almost black, staring at Dean with some sort of manic glee. He was dressed completely in black, and there was no sign of the injuries he had sustained at Dean's hands.

"Hello, Winchester," Cephas sneered. He spoke with a Wesh accent, his voice dripping with disdain. "Just came back to thank you for such a lovely introduction last night." He jerked his arm against Sam's throat, making the human gurgle uncomfortably. Sam had both hands clamped around Cephas' arm, but he was having no affect on the angel.

"Let him go," Dean ordered harshly, not daring to move.

Cephas tilted his head to the side, but rather than endearing, the movement looked menacing, reptilian. "Oh don't worry, I'm not going to hurt him," he said with a wolfish grin. "Permanently," he amended a second later. "But you both have been naughty little boys, and you need to be _punished_." 

Dean surged forward. "Hurt him and I'll kill you," he growled. "I'll rip your heart out."

The angel ran his tongue over his lips. "Oh, please try," he said, his voice husky.

Dean took another step, ignoring the fact he was clearly outclassed, focused only on driving his fist through this smug bastard's teeth.

Fingers buried themselves in his short hair and yanked his head backwards, drawing him to a severe halt. Cold metal pressed against his vulnerable throat. "Not so fast, sweetheart," purred a voice in his ear. Dean turned his head as much as he dared, rolling his eyes back to try to get a look at the owner of the voice.

Haamiah was as tall as her brother, with long, wavy brown hair, a nice tan, and hazel eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her parted lips were moist. The tip of her pink tongue was visible between her straight, white teeth. She laughed quietly, a throaty, sensual sound. "Don't worry. There will be plenty of play time later." Her head darted forward and her tongue grazed Dean's ear. With a strangled yelp he tried to jerk out of range, only to be stopped by the sword across his throat.

Dean heard the sound of beating wings and Amitiel lunged for Haamiah, her sword raised. Haamiah twisted without releasing Dean, slamming her foot into Amitiel's stomach. The slighter-built angel flew backwards but vanished before she hit the wall.

Haamiah arched backwards suddenly with an annoyed yell and let go of Dean, who scrambled quickly out of reach. He spun around to see Haamiah whirl on Castiel, who dropped the strands of long hair tangled in his fingers and closed with the female angel, the sound of their swords meeting filling the room.

Amitiel reappeared, shoved Dean down and out of the way, and leaped at Cephas. Cephas shoved Sam hard, propelling him toward the petite angel, but Amitiel shifted a foot to the side to allow Sam to fall past her. Cephas summoned his sword at the last minute, catching Amitiel's blade an inch form his throat.

There was some holy oil left in the supply closet. Dean tried to blink the stars away from where his head had met the wall and began to gather enough brain cells together to get to his feet. He lifted his head and blinked when Castiel's foot slammed down centimeters from his nose. Dean followed the foot up the leg to see Castiel holding onto Haamiah's wrist for dear life. Her sword hovered inches above Castiel's heart, the tip of the blade trembling as the angels tested their strength against each other.

Dean pushed himself up, pivoted on his hip, and swept Haamiah's feet out from under her. She hit the ground and rolled before Castiel could take advantage of her vulnerability, rippling to her feet with boneless grace. Castiel covered the ground between them in two long strides, but Haamiah didn't let her reach him. Instead, she blew him a kiss and vanished.

Castiel whirled around, the edge of his black trench coat flaring out, and growled in frustration. Dean used the table to haul himself to his feet. Amitiel stood on the other side of the kitchen, chest heaving. Her sword dangled, forgotten, in her left hand. Her face was a mask of anger.

"They took Sam," she said hoarsely.

XXXXXX

Fantasy casting! Because it is so much fun!

Shoftiel—Thomas Dekker

Kadmiel—Gina Torres

Cephas—Burn Gorman

Haamiah—Mila Jovovich

Kara Oskmey—Virginia Hey


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, seriously. The whole "kidnap Sam" routine was getting old.

Sam was more annoyed than concerned to find himself tied to a chair (_again_) in a long-abandoned living room. He was pretty sure his angel captors weren't going to kill him because they'd had plenty of opportunity up to this point and he was still alive. He tested the rope around his wrists and grimaced. How many times had he been tied up just in the past year? More times than he cared to remember.

The angels apparently knew their knots. The rope wasn't budging. Haamiah had discovered the knives hidden in his sleeve and boot. She'd taken a disturbing amount of pleasure in checking him for weapons. Sam shuddered at the memory. The two had thankfully vanished off someplace, leaving him alone but probably not unwatched.

Sam looked around the room intently, searching for anything he might be able to use to escape. He had absolutely no doubt that Dean and his own angels were coming for him, but it'd be nice to get a head start. The room was empty save for the chair he was sitting in and a stack of dusty couch cushions in the corner. If the tiny scurrying sounds were any indication, they were serving as a home for a family of mice. The room itself was dingy and smelled of mold and damp. The windows were boarded up and the only light came from the bare bulb overhead. There was an inch of dust on the ground, disturbed by several sets of footprints.

He wrinkled his nose in frustration and sighed between his teeth. This was going to be a tricky one. Sam stiffened when he heard footsteps in the hallway beyond the room, useless adrenaline spiking through his body in anticipation of the creeper angels' reappearance.

Sam was ridiculously relieved when it turned out to be someone else entirely. The woman was visually stunning and moved with fluid grace. Her clothing was expensive and tailored, her curly hair professionally styled. She entered the room without speaking a word, her brown eyes immediately fixed on Sam. She circled him once before coming to stand in front of him.

"I have been curious to meet you for a long time, Sam Winchester," she said. Even her voice was attractive, pleasing in timbre and cadence. Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"Wow. I'm famous. Yay me," he deadpanned. To his surprise, the woman's lips quirked upwards.

"It appears you do have some of the famous Winchester attitude. My name is Kadmiel, Sam. I wish to reassure you that we have no intention of harming you."

"Yeah, because tying me to a chair is a really good indicator of good intentions," Sam said. He knew it was probably a bad idea to mouth off to angels, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"It was for your own protection," Kadmiel replied, unperturbed by his sarcasm. "We do not want you to be harmed attempting to escape."

"Right," Sam said slowly, nodding. "So...we might as well get this over with. What do you want?"

To his surprise, Kadmiel tightened her mouth in distaste. "Bait," she said, as if the word tasted sour in her mouth. "It is practically guaranteed that your brother and his associates will attempt to rescue you. We need to draw them out from safety and force them into a vulnerable position."

Sam's stomach turned inside out. "It's a trap," he murmured. "A trap for Ami and Cas. You're gonna kill them."

The angel bobbed her head, her expression abruptly sad. "It is necessary," she said with a sigh. "Heaven has ordered it."

"I'm getting really sick of hearing that," Sam spat. "Heaven's done nothing but screw the whole human race over."

For the first time, anger flashed in Kadmiel's eyes. Sam braced himself for her response but she merely took a slow, deep breath and her expression calmed. "I would not expect you to understand the ways of heaven," she said. "You are, after all, only a human. Your mind is finite, limited."

"Oh, I understand, all right," Sam snapped. "I understand that you're willing to kill your own brother and sister simply because they did what they thought was right."

Sam didn't have time to prepare. Her face twisted in a sudden snarl, Kadmiel flung her hand out towards him. The chair slid backwards to slam against the wall, driving the breath out of Sam's lungs and smacking his head painfully. He tried to blink the stars out of his vision as Kadmiel stalked toward him.

"Do you think I _want_ to kill Castiel and Amitiel?" she demanded, her voice harsh. "Do you think I _enjoy_ this task? They are my siblings, Sam Winchester, and I love them. There was a time that I would have died for them. But they disobeyed. _They_ turned their backs on us and rebelled. And for that the punishment is death. There is no other choice. Castiel and Amitiel _must_ die."

Reaching Sam, she grabbed his chin and forced his head up to meet her gaze. "If your brother had betrayed you, rebelled against your father, if he had broken every law you had ever held dear, and if he was a danger to you and your family, wouldn't you stop him?"

"No," Sam replied without hesitating. "I'd find a way to save him."

Kadmiel released Sam and stepped back. "I am saving them," she said flatly. "I am saving them from themselves." With another gesture, she returned the chair to the center of the room and stalked out, leaving Sam with a growing headache and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

XxxXxxX

Dean was furious. Because, seriously, how many times did he have to put up with Sam getting captured? It was like the kid had a neon sign blinking above his head that said "Kidnap me, I'm easy!" He'd lost count of the times he'd had to bail his little brother out just in the last few years since they'd started hunting together again.

"Dammit, Dean," Bobby burst out. "Calm down! If we're going to get Sam back, then you need to keep your head on right."

"My head is perfectly fine where it is," Dean shot back, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. "We don't have time for this crap. We need to go after them!"

"Dean, you're talking about rushing in where angels fear to tread," Bobby replied. He flung a hand out to the siblings leaning against the counter. "Literally."

Dean paused in mid-step to eye the angels up and down. Castiel had a vaguely uncomfortable look on his face, the kind he got whenever he had to tell Dean something he knew Dean didn't want to hear. Amitiel's arms were crossed over her chest, a thunderous scowl shadowing her eyes. There were spots of bright color on each cheek and every line in her body screamed tension.

"It's a trap," she bit out. "We go after Sam, and they kill Castiel and me. We can't fling ourselves blindly into this."

"They won't hurt Sam," Castiel added. "They don't dare. Not now that it's known he's Lucifer's vessel. We have some time."

"How much time?" Dean demanded. "Time enough to figure out where the hell he his and how to get to him?"

"Perhaps," Castiel said, at the same time that Amitiel replied firmly, "Yes."

Dean swung around to stare at Ami, peripherally aware of Cas doing the same thing. The two men blinked at her while she stared back challengingly.

"You know for sure?" Dean asked sharply. She nodded.

"How?" Cas' voice was hard. Amitiel raised her chin defiantly.

"Because I've Marked him," she replied.

Dean blinked again, confused, and looked to Cas for an explanation. The male angel stared at his sister, eyes wide and mouth open. A knot of apprehension tightened in Dean's chest. "What does that mean?" Dean asked uneasily.

Both angels ignored him. Castiel made a partial recovery and spat something in Enochian, Amitiel replying hotly. Castiel's response shocked Dean; he'd never seen Cas this emotional before. Castiel strode right up to Amitiel, towering over the petite angel, and jabbed a finger into her chest, his voice rising angrily. Amitiel slapped his hand away and growled at her brother.

Dean jumped when Bobby slammed a book down against the table. Both angels snapped their mouths shut and turned to stare at the ex-hunter. Bobby glared at all three of them before pointing a finger in Amitiel's direction. "Start explaining," he ordered gruffly.

Cas muttered something inaudible and Amitiel shifted her weight. There was the sound of fluttering feathers and the air stirred faintly. Castiel's head came forward as if something invisible had struck the back of it and he glared at Amitiel, who ignored him.

"An angel Marks a human they wish to protect, claim as their own, and keep other angels from interfering with," she said, her voice clipped. "We take a small part of our Grace and attach it to the human's soul. This way we always know what they are feeling. If they are in danger, or pain."

Dean sputtered. "You gave Sam some of your _Grace_?" he choked out.

Amitiel faced him expressionlessly. "A miniscule amount. He wouldn't even notice it, and it detracts nothing from my power." At this last statement she slid a sidelong glance at Castiel and Dean realized what they had been arguing about.

"So how is this going to help us right now?" Bobby demanded, yanking them back on track.

"With enough preparation, I should be able to find Sam," Amitiel replied.

Dean rubbed his face. This all just too freaking much. "But Cas did the whole sigil thingy," he reminded her. "Angels can't track us anymore."

"I'm not looking for Sam," Amitiel explained shortly. "I am looking for my Grace, the missing portion."

"All right, what do you need?" Dean asked, shaking his head.

"Time," she replied. "And silence." She turned to leave the kitchen and paused in mid-step, glaring over her shoulder again at Castiel. "And you have no right to criticize me, not after Marking Dean yourself." With that she swept out of the room, leaving Dean staring at Cas, who had suddenly gone sheepish.

The angel looked at Dean, hunched his shoulders slightly, and asked, "What?"

XxxXxxX

Sam wondered if the angels knew he could hear them. They probably did, and didn't care. There were four of them now: Kadmiel, Haamiah, Cephas, and another who Sam hadn't seen yet, only heard his voice.

"That is not our assignment," Kadmiel said, her voice emotionless.

"Not our _specific_ assignment," Cephas rejoined. "But it is consistent with the greater plan. This way we can, as the humans say, kill two birds with one stone."

"Four birds," Haamiah corrected with an eerily child-like giggle.

"Kadmiel is correct," the newcomer said. His voice sounded young, somewhat boyish. "We focus on our task. Once Castiel and Amitiel have been eliminated and their rebellion cauterized, we report back to Zachariah."

"You never let us have any fun, Shoftiel," Haamiah complained, and Sam could hear the pout in her voice.

"Speaking of which," Shoftiel went on, "Castiel and Amitiel's deaths will be as swift and painless as we can manage. They are our siblings and they deserve that respect. Is that understood?" There was a long pause. "I said, is that understood?" he asked again, his voice harder.

"Yes," Cephas said reluctantly, echoed by his sisters.

"Good," Shoftiel said. The flutter of wings from the next room heralded the angels' departures, and Sam resumed his struggles to get free. His wrists were raw and bloody by now, pain stabbing all the way up to his shoulders, but he didn't stop. If he gave up, if he didn't find a way free, his brother and their angels were going to walk into a trap that would mean death.

He jerked when Haamiah prowled into the room, her eyes fixed on Sam. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip as she circled him slowly, humming to herself. Sam tried to remain still while his skin tried to peel off his body and crawl in the opposite direction.

"Such a beautiful boy," Haamiah murmured. "Except for, of course, the demon blood. But that just makes you all the more perfect for our dear brother Lucifer, doesn't it?" She came to a stop in front of Sam, looking down at him with an unhealthy light in her eyes. "Can you imagine what it's going to be like, human? When Michael and Lucifer finally meet in battle. All of that violence...mmm..." She moaned in pleasure, running her hands over her hips as she swayed dreamily. "...All of that blood. So...delicious. The earth will shake and the skies bleed... Oh, yes. It's going to be magnificent." She stalked closer to Sam, leaning forward into his personal space despite his efforts to put distance between them.

"You're going to die, you know," she said, her eyes wide. "When Michael kills Lucifer. It will kill you, too. And your precious brother is going to be awake and watching. I wonder if he'll break?"

"Never gonna happen," Sam said, trying to force bravado into his voice to hide how her words had shaken him. "We're never gonna say yes."

"Oh, you will," Haamiah purred. She seated herself on Sam's lap, wriggling to get comfortable as he stiffened, head turned away from her. She laughed breathlessly and ran a finger along his jaw. "All the pretty ways I can make you scream. So you'll _want_ Lucifer to have you, just to make it stop."

Sam's heart pounded, his breath catching in his throat as his mind raced. He swallowed thickly, trying to fight down his rising gorge. "I won't break," he spat at Haamiah. "Never."

Her eyes dilated and her tongue darted across her lips again. "You will," she said again. "...Eventually." She placed her hand on his chest, palm against his sternum and fingers spread under his collar bone. Sam braced himself for the pain that was surely coming, memories of Zachariah in Dad's storage room flooding to his mind.

Instead, Haamiah's eyes widened again, this time in shock, and she shrieked in anger, her true voice cracking the windows. Sam, bearing the full brunt of it, cried out with startled pain, his head snapping back. Trickles of warmth ran down along his jaw from each ear.

Haamiah flung herself backwards off of Sam, landing on her feet in a half crouch by the far wall. She stopped screaming, much to Sam's relief, but the noise had attracted the attention of his other captors. Cephas and Kadmiel appeared in the room, followed shortly by a boy who looked barely out of his teens. Shoftiel, Sam assumed, trying to clear his ringing head.

"What is this?" the boy demanded, glaring at Haamiah. "What have you done?"

"Nothing!" Haamiah spat. "That traitorous bitch! She's _Marked_ Lucifer's chosen!" Before anyone could react, she reached out and clawed her hand in Sam's direction as if grasping hold of something invisible.

It felt as if Sam had swallowed a hundred burning glass knives and now they were all trying to cut themselves out of him. His vision flashed white-hot and a shrill scream echoed in his ears. He only distantly recognized it as his own.

It was over the next second and Sam half-saw Kadmiel slam Haamiah against the wall, one hand around the other angel's throat. He went limp against the bindings, struggling to get his breath back and spitting out the blood that bubbled up his throat. He had a vague impression of the angels arguing around him, but he was more concerned with trying to stay conscious. When his vision finally cleared, Haamiah was pushing Kadmiel away, anger radiating from every line of her.

"She gave Grace to that...that _thing_," Haamiah hissed. "A _human_ with demon's blood and angel's Grace. Does she have any idea what she's created? And she dared Mark the vessel of another! See how she mocks us, Shoftiel? Does she still deserve respect?"

For a moment the four angels were silent, Cephas shifting subtly towards Haamiah to show his support while Kadmiel took two steps backwards to Shoftiel's side. Sam glanced apprehensively around them. They seem to have forgotten he was there, but he still got the feeling that whatever happened over the next few minutes would decide his immediate future.

Shoftiel finally stirred. "You should not have harmed the Marked of another," he said blandly. "Don't come near Sam Winchester again." With that he turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Kadmiel gave Haamiah a long, challenging glare. Haamiah seethed silently for a moment before simply vanishing. Cephas followed shortly after. Only then did Kadmiel leave.

Sam spat another mouthful of bloody saliva onto the dusty floor. "What the hell is a Marked?" he muttered to the empty room.


	13. Chapter 13

"You did _what_?" Dean finally managed. Castiel didn't meet his gaze.

"I think this conversation would be best suited by me being elsewhere," Bobby said gruffly, backing his wheelchair away from the table. "Don't break anything, please." He wheeled himself out of the kitchen, leaving nothing to distract Dean from the matter at hand.

"That thing...with the Grace..." he stuttered. "You did that to me?"

Cas finally turned to look him square in the face, squaring his shoulders. "I rescued you from hell, Dean. I fought for you, killed my brothers for you..._died_ for you. Do you really think you are anything else except mine?"

"I hope you mean that in a purely platonic sense," Dean replied uncomfortably. There was a long, awkward silence. "When?" he asked.

"In the Green Room," Cas replied with a faint sigh. "Just before I took you away."

Dean thought back to that moment, when Cas had slammed him against the wall, knife in one hand and the other clapped over Dean's mouth, eyes hard and questioning. He didn't remember anything unusual happening. Nothing special that marked the occasion. But ever since that moment, apparently, Dean had been carrying around part of Castiel's Grace. And that creeped the hell out of him.

"You cannot just do something like that without permission, dude," he told Cas sharply, starting the pace. "Do you even remember our conversations about privacy?"

Castiel's expression gave nothing away. "It was the best way I could protect you," he said flatly.

Dean stopped pacing. "But we've always had to call you. Tell you where we were and stuff. I thought—"

"Locating you would have taken time and concentration," Castiel interrupted. "It was easier if you just told me."

Dean mulled over this new information. He resumed pacing. Something Amitiel said froze him into place. "You know when we're in pain?" he asked cautiously. Castiel nodded, his expression still shuttered.

"We feel our Marked's pain as our own."

Dean's eyes widened, going back over every time he'd gotten hurt since the Green Room incident. But before he could press the issue, Amitiel stormed back into the kitchen. Her anger-heightened color was gone, leaving her once more almost sickly pale, eyes shadowed and dark.

"Found him," she said shortly. "We need to leave. Now."

"I thought you said we had time," Dean protested.

"I was wrong," Ami snapped. "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll pack the car," Dean said, heading for the study. Castiel's arm snaked out and caught his wrist.

"No. We'll have to go our way. Bring only what you can carry."

Dean didn't bother arguing. Sam was in danger and he needed to get his kid brother back as soon as possible. If that meant zapping around the goddamned planet, so be it. He put the last jar of holy oil in a duffel bag and went to find Bobby.

"Ami got a bead on Sam," he told the older man. "We're heading out."

Bobby studied him for a moment from under the brim of his cap. "Be careful, Dean," he said, his voice gruff but his eyes earnest.

"Yeah," Dean replied, knowing he couldn't make any promises. "See ya around, Bobby." He headed back to the kitchen where the angels waited. "I'm ready."

XxxXxxX

"I don't trust them."

Shoftiel didn't need to ask Kadmiel who "they" were. "They will obey orders," he replied mildly.

"Haamiah broke the rules," Kadmiel pressed. "She deliberately harmed the Marked of another angel. Who is to say what other rules she deems unnecessary?"

"Amitiel is fallen," Shoftiel pointed out, but Kadmiel slashed her hand through the air as if cutting through Shoftiel's argument.

"That has never been a stipulation. We are not to interfere with the Marked. It is bad enough that we are still holding him and I can only condone that because he is Lucifer's Chosen."

Shoftiel tilted his head, considering his subordinate for a moment. "Amitiel is sentenced to die, but you still defend her Marked?"

"She is not dead yet," Kadmiel replied. "And until she is, the rules stand. If we do not uphold the rules, then what do we uphold, Shoftiel? If we decide to break one, how long until we discard all of them?" She took a step forward, reaching out to put a hand on Shoftiel's forearm. "I don't trust them," she said again. "Send them away. Please."

Shoftiel shook his head. "No. Castiel and Amitiel will arrive any moment and I will not risk them escaping. Stay with Sam Winchester. Haamiah and Cephas will see to the perimeter. Neither of them will be permitted anywhere near Lucifer's Chosen again."

Kadmiel was clearly not happy, but she still inclined her head to her commander. "So be it," she agreed reluctantly, and returned to her post outside the temporary prison cell. Shoftiel remained where she had left him, his eyes dark and troubled.

The angel wrapped his rust-colored wings around his vessel's body. It was the gesture of a fledgeling but there was no one to witness his insecurity, and he needed all the comfort he could derive from the sensation of feathers against his skin. He wasn't sure who angered him more, Castiel and Amitiel for rebelling, or Zachariah for assigning him this task. He despised it with all his Grace, hating having to choose between his loyalty to Heaven and his loyalty to his siblings. A traitorous voice whispered in his mind, if perhaps Castiel and Amitiel weren't as guilty as Zachariah declared them to be, but he quickly silenced it.

He was a good son, and he would do his duty.

XxxXxxX

Dean stumbled when Castiel let go of his arm and he swallowed to even the pressure in his ears. They were standing on a dark street in an amber pool of light from an overhead streetlamp. High-rise apartment buildings towered on either side of them, most of the windows black. Dean didn't recognize the city.

Castiel stepped away from Dean's side and extend his hand as if feeling something invisible in front of him. He glanced at Amitiel, who pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose.

"What is it?" Dean demanded.

"A perimeter," Castiel replied. "Within it, we will not be able to use our wings."

"Fantastic," Dean muttered.

"There is one good thing," Amitiel pointed out. "Neither will they."

Dean rolled his shoulders. "Right. Where are they?"

Ami pointed. "At the center of the perimeter. Half a mile in that direction."

"Then let's do this," Dean replied, brushing past Cas. Out of the corner of his eye he saw both angels hesitate before deliberately stepping forward over the invisible line to follow him. They quickly caught up with Dean, flanking him as their heads swiveled to and for, constantly watching. Both of them had summoned their swords, the silver metal glimmering in the orange light.

It wasn't long until Amitiel held up a hand, bringing them to a halt. In front of them stood an abandoned apartment building, fenced off and condemned. They stood in a line, staring up at the building. "We need a plan," Dean said. "Anyone got a plan?"

Castiel nodded. "I do."

Dean walked out from behind a jagged slab of concrete, crossing the gravel towards the entrance of the building. It was perfectly silent; absolutely no sign of life. He stopped a good distance from any cover. "Hey!" he yelled into the silence. "Anyone home? I'm right here!" He spread his arms out in challenge. "Come on, you dicks! Come and get me!"

Between the space of one blink and the next, a young man appeared in front of Dean. The kid was shorter and lighter than him, but Dean knew better than to take things at face value. The boy stood there, arms at his side, eyes watching Dean, silent.

"As far as rescues go," the boy said eventually. "This is shaping up to be a spectacularly poor one, Dean Winchester."

"Well, give me a gold star for effort," Dean retorted.

"Where are Castiel and Amitiel?" the boy asked, his voice calm and unperturbed.

"The hell should I know?" Dean replied. "I came alone."

"Liar," the angel declared. "I won't ask again."

"Good, 'cause that would get repetitive," Dean said with a smirk.

A flicker of emotion passed through the kid's eyes for the first time. "I have no patience for games, Dean Winchester. Tell me where Castiel and Amitiel are, and I will allow you and your brother to leave unharmed."

"Just like that?" Dean scoffed.

The angel inclined his head. "Just like that," he echoed.

"Okay then," Dean said. "Bring Sam out and we'll talk."

"Do not mistake me for a fool," the angel said scornfully. "Neither of you are going anywhere until Castiel and Amitiel are dead."

"Uh-huh," Dean said, and reached into his pocket. "Fine. You want me to talk? I'll talk." He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, flicked it on, and flung it at the angel's feet all in one smooth motion. Fire blossomed in a ring around the angel, trapping him within seconds. "You even think about touching any of them again and I'll cut your heart out," Dean growled.

The angel's face twisted into a snarl of rage. "How dare you, you pathetic _animal_! Release me at once!"

Dean ignored him, pulling a knife out of his boot and rolling up his sleeve. He dragged the blade across his left forearm, wincing at the sting. He stalked over to the nearest slab of concrete and began painting the now-familiar sigil. He counted to fifteen, trusted Cas and Ami were out of range, and slapped his bloody palm against the center of the sigil. Behind him, the angel cried out and vanished in a flash of white light.

"One down, three to go," Dean muttered to himself, retrieving the duffel bag. "Hang on Sammy, we're coming."

XxxXxxX

Castiel slipped through the back entrance into the building where Sam was being kept. There were no lights on, but the dark was no obstacle for him. He scanned the hallway in front of him with both physical and non-physical senses, ensuring that he was, for the moment, alone. He began to move down the hall, his sword held in a reverse grip in front of him, his feet making no sound against the floor.

Amitiel's presence glowed warmly in the back of his mind, and he could feel Dean's pulse beating against his Grace, fast and steady. So far, everything was going according to plan. A surge of triumph flowed from Dean; Shoftiel had been neutralized. Good. Now it was Castiel's turn.

Castiel stopped advancing into the building and flared his wings, silver-white pinions filling the hallway with flashes of light and flickering shadows. It did not take long for someone to notice. Cephas lunged out of an open doorway, teeth bared and sword raised. Castiel twisted sideways, sweeping Cephas' blade away from his chest and into the wall. The angel sword cut through plaster and wood as if through water, and Cephas lunged again.

This time Castiel caught the blade on his own, high above their heads. Cephas smashed his forehead against Castiel's nose, sending Castiel reeling backwards, blood pouring over his lips for a moment before stemming.

Cephas pressed his advantage, kicking out at the inside of Castiel's knee but Castiel twisted with the blow, allowing the momentum to take him all the way around and driving his elbow into Cephas' ear. Cephas was thrown against the opposite wall, using it to keep himself from falling to the floor. He turned back to Castiel only to catch the other angel's fist with his jaw.

Cephas broke through the wall and landed on the floor in the next room, his sword dropping from his hand on the impact. Castiel stepped through the hole and kicked the blade away. He plunged his own blade toward Cephas' chest but Cephas caught his hand before the tip could meet his skin. He twisted and kicked upwards, the steel toe of his boot slamming into Castiel's ribcage.

Castiel felt two of his ribs buckle as he stumbled sideways. Cephas didn't let go of Castiel as he rippled to his feet, taking advantage of Castiel's precarious balance to twist his arms and throw him against the nearest wall. Castiel managed to keep hold of his sword but couldn't catch himself in time. He left a body-sized crater in the wall but didn't go through, rebounding onto the floor and rolling to avoid Cephas' strike. Achieving an upright position, the angels squared off against each other, evaluating their opponent's injuries.

Cephas moved first, Castiel reacting a second too slow. Their swords rang out like a bell as they met, Cephas changing the angle of his strike to slide against Castiel's blade, through his defense, and into his flesh.

XxxXxxX

The light bulb over Sam's head flickered twice and went out. He blinked in the ensuing darkness, completely blind. "Fuck," he said conversationally. His day really couldn't get any worse. As if to contradict him, there came a surprisingly quiet sound of glass breaking. He tensed. It sounded as if it had come from one of the boarded-up windows in front of him.

Wood creaked, cracked, splintered, and finally broke. A patch of orange light appeared in front of him as part of the boards was ripped away. Then a head-shaped silhouette blocked the light. Wood splintered again and more of the boards vanished until there was a hole big enough for a slender shape to slip through. The figure darted over to the chair on which Sam sat and knelt in front of him.

The distant light allowed him to make out the figure's features and he grinned fiercely as Amitiel placed her finger over her lips. She reached out and touched the ropes binding Sam's arms and they burned away without singing his skin. He rose instantly to his feet, rubbing his raw and blistered wrists as he crossed over to the newly-unblocked window. It was a five-story drop to street below, with no visible hand- or footholds. Sam turned to look at Ami in surprise. She was standing by the door, her head tilted in concentration. She beckoned Sam urgently and disappeared through the doorway.

Sam hurried to follow her into the hallway and caught up with her as they reached the door to the stairwell. She glanced up at him again and pushed the door open. There were no light except what little filtered in through the filthy windows, but it was just enough to make out the stairs themselves so Sam wouldn't trip and break his neck. They'd made it halfway down to the next floor when Amitiel grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a halt.

"Back, back," she hissed. "Go, upstairs!"

Sam turned and bounded back up the stairs, reaching the door where they entered. He hit the push bar only to nearly run into the door when it didn't open. "It's locked!" he whispered to Amitiel when she rejoined him. She put her hand against the door briefly, scowled, and pointed upwards.

"Go," she said again. They darted up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible, reaching the top a few moments later. This time the door was open and they emerged onto the roof of the building, the cloudy sky overhead reflecting the orange city lights.

Amitiel started out across the roof and Sam caught up with her in three strides. "Now what?" he asked, but she shook her head at him. She reached the edge of the roof and leaned over the half wall to look down at the street below. On this side there were several dumpsters lining the building, all full of construction materials.

Behind them, the door opened and closed again. They swung around, Sam's stomach dropping at what he saw. Haamiah stood in front of the doorway, her sword in one hand. "Amitiel," she purred. "Sister. I am _so_ glad to see you."

"I am afraid I cannot say the same," Amitiel replied, stepping in front of Sam. Haamiah's eyes flashed.

"Oh, yes. Protecting your precious little pet. Did you think that Marking him was enough to keep him out of our hands? You _fool_!" She prowled forward a few steps. "They say the Mark works both ways. That the human can feel the angel's pain, if great enough. I hope so. I hope he feels you die."

"Ami," Sam said, but she cut him off.

"Stay back, Sam," she ordered. "If you can make the door, run."

"I'm not leaving you!" he growled, but she glared up at him.

"Do as I say," she bit out.

Haamiah let out a cry of challenge and broke into a run. Amitiel turned from Sam, ran forward three steps, and leaped into the air, swinging her sword down at Haamiah from a greater height than the taller angel. Haamiah's sword missed its intended mark but her arm connected with Amitiel's midsection. Amitiel hit the ground and rolled to her feet in a smooth motion, pirouetting around to once more face Haamiah.

They squared off against each other, blades held in bone-crushing grips as they looked for any opening. Amitiel saw Haamiah's eyes flicker and then she shifted her weight onto her back foot. Amitiel realized what Haamiah was doing a second too late.

"Sam!" she cried, as Haamiah bounded backwards, struck Sam across the face, and grabbed him by the throat. Amitiel lunged forward, freezing only when Haamiah placed her sword across Sam's exposed neck. She had him at the edge of the building, the half wall pressed against the back of his thighs.

"You won't hurt him," Amitiel ground out.

"Of _course_ I will hurt him," Haamiah said with an cruel laugh. "I will hurt him and I will kill him. Then his soul will be ours and his body...available. And you...you will watch."

Amitiel took a step forward, growling, but Haamiah pressed her sword closer against Sam's neck. "Ami," Sam gurgled, his eyes wide. Amitiel could feel his heartbeat racing against her Grace, his fear...for her. He wasn't afraid for his own life. Only for hers.

"Don't hurt him," she said softly, lowering her sword. "Please, Haamiah. Don't hurt him."

"Cast your blade aside," Haamiah ordered.

"Ami, don't!" Sam tried to call out. Amitiel tossed her sword away from her, wincing slightly as it clattered against the tarry roof. She held out her hands toward Haamiah.

"Let him go," she all but whispered. "I will stay. I will not fight you."

Haamiah's eyes studied Amitiel for a long moment, their hazel depths fever-bright. She grinned suddenly, wild and cruel. She released her hold on Sam and Amitiel's breath eased. Then Haamiah pushed against Sam's chest gently, just enough to overbalance him. Sam gave a startled cry as he tumbled backwards over the wall.

Amitiel didn't hesitate. She bounded forward, ducking under Haamiah's blade, and dove over the edge after Sam.


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel gave a short cry of pain when Cephas' blade pierced his right shoulder. It bit deep into the meat and muscle, jarring against the bone with breathtaking agony. Castiel jerked himself backwards, stumbling and nearly falling, but managed to pull himself off of Cephas' blade. The wound leaked blood and white light. Castiel pressed the heel of his left hand against it, trying to stem both blood and Grace. His arm dangled limply, sword barely held in numbed fingers.

Cephas made no move to attack again. He really didn't have to. With Castiel unable to use his wings to retreat, he was completely vulnerable. Cephas tilted his head as he studied Castiel with dark eyes. "Do you know why you failed here today, brother?" he asked, his vessel's Welsh accent rolling the vowels. Castiel glared and didn't reply. "It's because you limit yourself," Cephas went on. "You are always telling yourself, 'this is wrong' and 'that is right.'" He spread his arms, flinging droplets of Castiel's blood from the edge of his sword. "We are angels, Castiel. We get to decide what is right and wrong. We have no limits. No rules. This world...it belongs to us. All of it." He shook his head. "You know you could have kept them safer if you had stayed with us."

"Safer...perhaps," Castiel growled. "But not free."

Cephas shrugged. "Then die free, my friend." He lifted his sword again.

There was a quiet click from behind him. "Hey, asshole."

Cephas turned to look. Dean was standing just inside the gaping hole in the wall, holding a makeshift aerosol can in one hand. The other hand held a lighter in front of the nozzle, a tiny yellow flame burning cheerfully in the gloom. Dean pulled the trigger.

Flaming holy oil gouted across the room, engulfing Cephas in a blazing yellow fireball. The angel screamed, his voice growing shriller until it broke into his true voice. He writhed in agony, but there was no escape. His wings were useless, unable to transport himself from the holy flame consuming him.

It was over within moments. Dean eyed the corpse in the middle of the now-singed room, flames still licking over blackened muscle and charred bone. He skirted it gingerly, heading to where Castiel was curled up in a corner, hunkered as much into his coat as possible. Dean offered him a hand up. "Dude, it worked," Dean said, sounding surprised.

Castiel carefully removed the fireman's jacket as best he could with his injured arm, dropping the black-lacquered material in a heap at his feet. "I am very glad it did," he said gravely. Dean's eyes widened at the sight of blood staining the front of Castiel's shirt.

"Dude, are you okay?" he demanded, stepping forward to examine the wound. There was no longer any Grace leaking from the injury. Castiel grimaced when Dean applied too much pressure.

"For the moment. We have to hurry."

"All right," Dean said, eying Cas up and down. "Lead the way."

XxxXxxX

Amitiel collided with Sam hard enough to change their trajectory and she wrapped her arms around his chest as tightly as she could. Her wings flared on instinct but they couldn't help her, not within the perimeter. She twisted sharply, turning them around so she was on the bottom, Sam above her. Maybe if he had something soft to land on...

The two falling figures landed in one of the dumpsters with a loud crunch, a cloud of dust exploding upon impact. For a long moment nothing happened. Then Sam groaned and stirred. He opened his eyes and blinked dazedly at his new surroundings. The dumpster seemed to be filled mostly with cardboard boxes and insulation. Already his exposed skin was starting to itch. Sam lay for a while trying to figure out how the hell he'd got there when his brain finally caught up with him. He rolled over, off the slender body underneath him, and got unsteadily to his knees.

Amitiel lay on her back, arms spread-eagle. She'd fallen on a couple of four-by-fours, the wood cracked beneath her. Blood trickled from her nose. Sam leaned over her, trying to check for injuries. "Ami?" he croaked breathlessly. "Ami? Can you hear me? Ami!"

Her eyes flew open, pale as the predawn sky. "Sam," she whispered hoarsely. "Sam?"

"Mal. Hey, are you okay?" Sam demanded, running his hands down her arms and legs, searching for any breaks.

"I...I don't know," Mal gasped. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow...hurts. Dammit!" She stopped trying to stir as tears pooled in her eyes.

"What hurts?" Sam hovered over her anxiously. "Where, Mal? Tell me where it hurts."

"My back," Mal groaned, hands clenching and opening.

Sam twisted to look down at her. "Can you move your legs?" he asked frantically. Mal gasped, sobbed quietly, and obligingly twitched both her feet. "Thank God," Sam breathed, sagging in relief. "Come on. We got to get you out of here. Can you move?"

"I don't know," she said again. Sam slipped his arm under her shoulders and helped her sit up. She gave a low, strangled sob, the tears trickling down her cheeks. "Hurts..." she hissed. "God, Sam, it hurts."

"I'm sorry," he said, beginning to pull her towards the edge of the dumpster. He reached it first and hauled himself over, dropping to the ground. Every muscle in his body ached already. He was going to be sore as hell in the morning. If they survived until the morning.

Mal peeked over the edge down at him, tears dripping unheeded off her chin. "I can't..." she panted. Sam reached up towards her.

"We have to get out of here, Mal," Sam told her urgently. "Come on."

Slowly, far too slowly, Mal eased herself up and rolled over the edge into Sam's waiting arms. She was incredibly light, even completely limp in his grasp. She had never regained the weight she'd lost during those first two weeks she'd hosted Amitiel.

"Can you walk?" Sam asked, setting her on her feet. She kept hold of his arm, her fingers digging in painfully but he didn't complain.

"No..." She gritted her teeth. "_Yes._" Still clinging to Sam's arm, she managed a few steps away from the dumpster. Sam wasn't sure where they were going, just that they had to get _away_. He glanced over his shoulder as they limped toward the street, keeping an eye out for Haamiah. He heard footsteps crunching over gravel and grabbed Mallory, pulling her behind an empty pick-up with construction lights.

Dean rounded the line of dumpsters, Castiel close behind him. The angel's black trench coat was gone, leaving him in a blood-stained turtleneck and dirty jeans. Sam blew out a sigh of relief and emerged from cover. "Dean!" he called quietly. His brother's head snapped around towards him and his expression cleared.

"Hey," Dean said, jogging over towards them. "Sammy. You okay?"

"Little banged up," Sam replied. "Mal is..." he turned to look down at Mal. She was curled up on the ground, unconscious again. "Dammit."

"What happened?" Dean demanded, crouching next to the girl.

"We fell off the building," Sam replied with a grimace. Dean stared up at him.

"You _what_?"

"Dean, we don't have time for this," Castiel said sharply. "We have to leave the perimeter as soon as possible."

"Right," Dean agreed. He gathered Mallory up into his arms and staggered slightly as he stood. "Let's get out of here."

They'd taken four steps when a shriek of rage sent Sam and Dean to their knees. Sam clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound, but Dean, burdened with Mal, was unable to protect himself. The scream didn't stop, getting louder and shriller until it finally passed out of the human hearing range, but Sam could still feel it in his head and chest. Castiel grabbed Sam's arm and tried to haul the taller man to his feet with only partial success.

"Haamiah must have discovered Cephas' corpse," he explained, his eyes never leaving the building looming over them. "We need to go." He stiffened suddenly. "The perimeter is down." Whirling around, Castiel lifted his hands, reaching for Sam and Dean.

Haamiah hit Castiel like a freight train, driving both of them into the pick up. The truck crumpled like a tin can, the alarm wailing drunkenly for a few seconds before dying.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, shoving Mallory into Sam's arms and scrabbling at his duffel. He pulled out an aerosol can and shook it. "Dammit!"

Haamiah had Castiel pinned down in the wreckage of the car, her hands clamped around his neck. Castiel clawed at her wrists, digging bleeding furrows into her skin, but she didn't budge. Her face was twisted into a nearly-unrecognizable mask of rage.

Dean ran up behind Haamiah and swung the can with all his strength against her skull, denting the can and snapping her head to the side. She half-turned, freed one hand, and gestured sharply. Dean flew backwards off his feet and into a pile of broken concrete.

Amitiel came to life in Sam's arms, twisting neatly out of his grasp and onto her feet. She crossed the distance between Sam and her siblings in a few bounds and bodily tackled Haamiah off Castiel. Castiel pulled himself out of the crumpled remains of the truck, fell to his hands and knees, and staggered to his feet.

"Get your brother," he ordered Sam hoarsely. Sam hesitated, torn for a moment between Dean's still body and the sight of Ami engaged in an all-out brawl with Haamiah. He finally turned and hurried over to Dean. Blood matted the hair on the left side of Dean's head and his green eyes were crossed when he blinked up at Sam.

Castiel appeared above them and stooped, two fingers coming to touch each of their foreheads. The ground was yanked out from underneath them for a moment and then they were in Bobby's living room.

Sam lunged to his feet. "Dammit, Cas!" he yelled uselessly. "Dammit! Bobby?"

The older man rolled in from the kitchen. "Sam? You okay? What's going on?"

Sam knelt back down beside Dean, picking his brother's head up off the hard floor. "Cas sent us back here while he and Ami take care of the angel hit squad," he growled. "Dean hit his head pretty hard. I need the first aid kit."

"Sure thing," Bobby said with a nod, leaving to get it.

Sam ground his teeth together in frustration. He didn't even know where the fight was taking place. "Dammit," he muttered again.

XxxXxxX

Haamiah managed to throw Amitiel off of her the instant Castiel sent Sam and Dean to safety, and Amitiel let her do it. She rolled over the gravel and pushed to her feet, coming up next to Castiel. Together they faced Haamiah, injured but still standing. Castiel held his sword in his left hand. Amitiel's hands were empty, but she was not without weapons.

Haamiah screamed again and lunged forward. Castiel and Amitiel darted in opposite directions. Amitiel turned back to face Haamiah, her hands thrusting out towards the angel. An invisible force caught Haamiah broadside, white light flashing on impact. She was flung backwards and hit the side of the building with enough force to crack the cement.

Castiel raced forward and struck with his sword. Haamiah twisted at the last second, taking the blade in her hip rather than her stomach. She rolled further, trapping Castiel's sword between her body and the ground, and buried her own blade into his thigh. Castiel cried out and fell backwards, taking Haamiah's sword with him. Haamiah got to her feet, picked up Castiel's sword, and lifted it over her head for the killing strike.

The silver tip of an angel sword slid soundlessly through Haamiah's throat. She stood frozen there, her eyes wide in confusion as a trickle of blood flowed from the corner of her mouth. She slowly sank to her knees, the sword retracting from her neck, to reveal Kadmiel standing behind her. Haamiah listed sideways, laying gently down onto the gravel. White light exploded from her body, charring her wings to a sooty impression on the uneven ground.

Kadmiel considered the body of her sister for a moment, her eyes clouded and troubled. Amitiel and Castiel stared at her, unsure of what to do next. Kadmiel finally took a deep breath, stepped over Haamiah's body, and knelt beside Castiel, placing one hand on his thigh next to the sword still protruding from his muscle.

"This will hurt," she warned him, and took hold of the hilt. Castiel grunted when she pulled the blade free, blood and light trickling from the wound. Kadmiel pressed her hand to the injury, and the light shining from between her fingers gradually faded. Castiel looked from the injury to Kadmiel's face, his expression serious.

"What have you done?" he asked softly.

Kadmiel's eyes were still troubled when she met Castiel's gaze. "What I thought was right," she said softly. She got to her feet. Except for a bloody hole in his jeans, there was no sign of Castiel's injury. She retrieved the sword stained with Haamiah's blood and offered it to Amitiel. "This belongs to you."

Amitiel took it warily. "Why?" she demanded.

The other angel shook her head. "Now is not the time for that conversation. Please. Just go. I will tell Shoftiel you managed to escape."

Castiel got to his feet and walked over to join Amitiel, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder. He looked back at Kadmiel. "Thank you," he said simply. She nodded in reply. They left.

XxxXxxX

Dean sat on the old swing on Bobby's front porch enjoying the cool breeze and the beer he'd snuck from the refrigerator. His back was sore and his shoulder twinged whenever he moved it, but at least he was seeing only one of everything again.

"I don't think you are supposed to be drinking that."

Dean looked up to see Cas standing beside him, looking down at him with that bird-like tilt to his head. He was once more clad in his black trench coat, the shirt and jeans mended and cleaned. Dean saluted him with the bottle.

"Here's to ignoring doctor's orders," he said, and took a swig. Castiel exhaled through his nose and sat down next to Dean, gazing out over the scrapyard. Dean eyed him closely. "You okay?"

Castiel was silent for a minute. "Yes," he said at length. Dean wondered if he should press the issue and decided against it.

"So," he said instead. "Do we go back to our regularly scheduled Apocalypse?" Cas turned to look at him, a frown creasing his forehead. "Are we done with the angel hit squads?" Dean clarified. Cas looked away again.

"Shoftiel's squad was among the best. I doubt they will send another."

"Good." Dean took another drink of beer.

The front door opened and Bobby rolled through. Dean hastily hid his beer and tried to look innocent as the older man joined them. Bobby gave Dean a look that said he knew exactly what was up and offered Castiel a bottle. The angel hesitated only a second before accepting. Bobby opened his own beer.

"Where are the other two?" Bobby asked.

Dean hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the back lot. "Talking," he replied.

Bobby arched an eyebrow. "'Bout what?"

"Amitiel is explaining the process of Marking," Castiel said expressionlessly, taking his first sip of his beer. He'd tried to explain that he needed no sustenance, but it was easier to simply accept than to continue arguing.

Bobby grunted. "That's gonna be fun."

"Yup," Dean agreed.

The three men lapsed into silence, drinking their beers and drawing comfort from each other's presence.

Sam and Amitiel were also silent. They were by the little pond Amitiel like so much, Sam seated on the flat stone by the pond's edge and Amitiel standing in front of him. Sam stared at his hands. "So," he said at length, then cleared his throat. "This...Mark. What does it mean, exactly?"

"It allows us to monitor you, where you are, if you are in danger," Amitiel began, but Sam cut her off by shaking his head.

"You said all that already. I meant...why? Why do it? And why me?"

Amitiel hunched her shoulders slightly and the air stirred against Sam's face, accompanied by the sound of rustling feathers. "To protect you." Sam opened his mouth but Amitiel held up a hand. "You protected me, Sam, when I was injured and in need. This is how best I can protect you now."

Sam clenched his hands. "But you...you messed around with my _soul_, Ami. You can't...you can't just do that without permission. You didn't even tell me."

She blinked, pursed her lips, blinked again, and furrowed her brow. "Mallory tells me I should apologize," she admitted. "I did not consider this would be an issue. I am sorry, Sam."

He sighed and went back to staring at his hands. "You know what Haamiah said? She said... a human with demon's blood and angel's grace. She wanted to know what sort of monster you'd created."

"_Sam_." Amitiel's voice cracked sharply, jerking his head up to meet her gaze. "I knew exactly what I was doing when I Marked you," she said, her voice softening slightly. "I did it because you are my friend, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you from harm. Do you understand?"

Sam swallowed. "Yeah," he said quietly. Amitiel suddenly looked uncertain.

"Is there...is there anything I can do?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I just need some time, Ami," he replied tiredly. She nodded, clearly unhappy.

"Very well." She turned to leave and stopped suddenly.

"Sam?" He looked up to see Mallory studying him closely, her brows drawn together. She turned back and took a step toward him, twisting her hands together. "Please don't be mad at Ami," she said earnestly. "She was worried about you. She's just trying to keep you safe."

"I know, Mal," Sam said. "I just..." he trailed off. He chuckled humorlessly. "I don't know. I honestly don't know what to think anymore."

Mal's knuckles whitened as she clutched her hands tighter together. "Sam," she said, struggling over her words. "I don't know...if Ami cares about you...because I do, or if I care...because she does...but...we do. A lot. And..." she stopped talking, eyes fixed on the ground. Then she gathered up her courage and, before she could talk herself out of it, closed the distance between them and kissed him.

She pulled away before Sam even realized she'd done it, cheeks aflame, and hurried away. Sam stared after her, too surprised to react or call her back. After she'd disappeared around the corner of the house, he reached up thoughtfully and placed a finger across his lips.

He hadn't seen _that_ coming.

XXXXX

A/N: Yes! I am done with my second Supernatural story! *does victory dance* I apologize for the starts and stops on this one but real life has the annoying habit of interfering with my writing. I fully plan on continuing this story with another installation. Because how could I just end it like this? *evil grin*


End file.
